


(If One Could Be Home) They'd Be Already There

by DotyTakeThisDown



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Bottoming from the Top, Caleb Widogast Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Christmas, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Nerds in Love, New Year's Eve, Nightmares, Northern Lights, Self-Indulgent, Study Date, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DotyTakeThisDown/pseuds/DotyTakeThisDown
Summary: When Caleb stays in the on-campus apartments, he expects to be alone for winter break. He doesn't expect to run into Essek Thelyss in the laundry room.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 115
Kudos: 579





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I try to brainstorm a Christmas-themed fic and a Shadogast winter-themed fic at the same time. Explicit rating for future chapters. This is not set at any particular university, but it might bear a distinct resemblance to my alma mater. Title is from Old City Bar by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Fjord asks, duffel bag draped over one shoulder and keys spinning around his finger. “You know you’re always welcome.”

“I’m sure.” Caleb forces a smile onto his face as he looks up from his stack of brand-new (well, used, but brand-new to him) textbooks. Fjord and his finally-girlfriend Jester are going to her mother’s house for winter break. It will be their first as a couple and Caleb isn’t interested in being their third-wheel. “Say hi to Jester and Marion for me.”

“I will.” Fjord opens the door to find his exit blocked by a short girl with bright blue hair. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Did you tell him he’s welcome to come with us?” Jester asks before standing on her tip-toes and placing a kiss on Fjord’s cheek.

Fjord clears his throat, a blush blooming on his cheeks. “I did. He says hi to you and your mom.”

“Hi, Caleb!”

“Hi, Jester.”

“You know you can come with us, right?” Jester leans against the counter, balancing lightly on her toes. “My mom won’t mind.”

“I know.” Caleb shifts uncomfortably on his chair. Jester’s face is so radiant it almost hurts to look at, her cheeks flushed from the cold outside and her eyes new-love bright. “I’m really behind on my thesis. I need to take advantage of some peace and quiet for _once_.”

“Please,” Fjord scoffs, still lingering at the open door. “You’re probably almost done.”

“I wish.” Caleb opens the cover of the textbook on top of the stack, anything to avoid looking at Jester’s pout. “Have a good Christmas, both of you.”

“You too, Caleb,” Jester says, her voice almost quiet. “Don’t work too hard, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Caleb does look up, then. He feels something like envy twist in his stomach looking at the two of them together—not of Fjord, but of both of them together. It has been a _long_ road since they met at freshman orientation, but now they seem to fit together so easily. That ease is what he wants, even if he doesn’t deserve it. “Drive safe and text me when you get there.”

“We will.” Jester turns on her heel and skips out the door.

Fjord casts one look back at Caleb. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Widogast. Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caleb tosses back lightly. “I can’t get a moment’s peace to work with you all here.”

“Whatever you say.” Fjord waves his goodbye and leaves him alone to an empty apartment in an empty building.

Caleb sighs. At least with all of his friends gone for break, he won’t have to answer questions and make excuses anymore. He isn’t _lying_ when he says he’s behind on his thesis, but the truth is he doesn’t want to encroach on their family traditions, no matter how many times they assure him he wouldn’t be.

It’s Fjord and Jester’s first Christmas together.

Beau is taking Yasha home to meet her family for the first time.

Clay has more than enough family to deal with on his own. There won’t be so much as a spare couch or air mattress to go around.

Molly is vacationing in Barcelona.

Veth is eight months pregnant and he still might go spend Christmas dinner with her and Yeza but there’s no way they need him underfoot while they’re trying to prepare for a _baby._

Besides, it’s not like he’s _really_ alone. He has his books and his thesis. He won’t even notice his friends are gone.

***

Caleb feels like a ghost as he makes his way up the stairs. The building is completely silent—no shouted arguments, no music pounding through the floor, no one running down the hall late to class. Rather than helping him focus on his thesis, he’s been left feeling restless and lost.

He misses Jester taking over their coffee table with her latest art project. Beau walking through their front door without knocking. Clay showing up to use them as guinea pigs for some new tea blend he’s concocted, possibly with ingredients off the dark web.

And, he considers as he frowns down at his laden arms, he misses his door always being unlocked so he can open it with his hip and kick his way inside. He sets the grocery bags down on the floor, riffles through his pockets for the key, unlocks the door, picks the bags back up, and walks into his equally quiet apartment.

“Honey, I’m home,” he grumbles to himself, wishing that he could at _least_ have a cat to greet him at the door. He’d thought about it more than once but, well, campus rules. He might’ve given it a try anyway, if Fjord weren’t allergic.

He sets the groceries on the counter and the extra-large (full) Mountain Dew slips out of his arm. The paper cup crushes against his chest in his attempt to catch it, ice and sugary liquid soaking through his shirt.

“ _Scheisse._ ” Caleb tries to step back and nearly slips on the ice scattered across his kitchen floor. “Great.”

He strips out of his wet shirt—it’s already too far gone—and drops it on the floor, pushing it around with his foot. He’ll clean it up properly before the floor gets sticky. He can only hope that Mountain Dew won’t eat away at the laminate; he’s pretty sure that will void their security deposit.

Trying not to think about all the wet t-shirt jokes that Molly would tell if he weren’t in Barcelona, he opens his bedroom closet to—nothing. The hangers are empty, except for a single pair of suit pants that he saves for job interviews. “Fuck.”

Laundry has fallen to the wayside for, well, weeks if he’s being honest. It’s not like there’s anyone around to see him or care if he’s been wearing the same shirt for four days.

There isn’t anyone around to see him or care if he’s wearing _any_ shirt, technically, but it is only twelve degrees outside and taking a walk to clear his head with a winter coat and no shirt sounds like a recipe for hypothermia.

In the end, he gathers up his laundry basket along with his clothes scattered across the floor. No time like the present. He isn’t procrastinating his thesis, not even a little.

Caleb’s bent over the washer, trying to peel his last sock from the bottom, when he hears the door open. His heart leaps into his throat, imagining ghosts or someone breaking into the building to—do what? Laundry? Just because he hasn’t heard another person in days doesn’t mean he’s the only one staying in the whole building.

He straightens slowly, turning around to find a man staring at him. Staring, more specifically, at his chest.

“You’re—” Caleb says, when he manages to find his voice. “You’re Essek Thelyss, aren’t you?”

He almost doesn’t recognize him with a laundry basket on his hip standing in the doorway in what appear to be yoga pants and a well-worn shirt. He’s used to seeing him bent over a notebook or with his face lit by a laptop screen, poised and polished in turtlenecks or button-ups and suit pants. His mind struggles to reconcile that they could _possibly_ be the same person.

“I am.” Essek squares his shoulders, letting the door click shut behind him. He drops his basket in front of the washer farthest from Caleb. “You’re Caleb Widogast. We had Intermediate Electricity and Magnetism together last semester.”

“You had that presentation on the paramagnetism of iron oxide.”

Essek smiles and nods, shoving his clothing into the washer all at once. Caleb sits on a table, book braced across his lap. It isn’t anything for his thesis, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. He half-expects Essek to leave again, but he pulls his own book out of a bag slung across his shoulder and settles down on a chair.

They read in silence, until Caleb’s washer makes a loud _thunk_ noise that means it’s done. He leaves the book behind as he gets up to switch the laundry.

“ _Theories of Imperialism_ ,” Essek reads, leaning across the table for a better look. “Sounds fascinating.”

“I’m taking Imperialism next semester.” Caleb tosses the laundry into an open dryer—they’re all open dryers, really, except for the one he’s already using—and follows it up with a dryer sheet. “I thought I might as well get a head start on the reading.”

“I thought you were a physics major too.” Essek makes a considering hum, twisting around in his chair. “Is it an elective?”

Caleb shakes his head as he leaves the dryer to do its work. “I’m a double major. Physics and history.”

“Oh.”

“As my friend Molly would put it, I’m a huge over-achiever.”

“You’re fascinated by the building blocks of the world, aren’t you?” Essek asks, and the way he’s looking at Caleb sends a shiver down his spine. He’s never had anyone _get_ it before, his interest in pursuing both fields at the same time.

“Yes,” Caleb says, almost breathless. “I am.”

“What are you planning to do, once you graduate?”

“I’m not sure.” Caleb runs his thumb down the pages of his book. “I think I’d like to go to graduate school, become a professor.”

Essek grins at him. “I thought everyone in our program wanted to go work for NASA.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

He shrugs. “I’m keeping my options open. So, what are you taking next semester besides Imperialism?”

While the dryers rumble on, they compare their schedules, bemoaning Essek’s eight a.m. and Caleb’s six p.m. in equal measure. Caleb tries to ignore the little thrill in his chest when they realize they’re taking the same Probability Course.

“Uludan’s tough but fair,” Caleb says. “Make sure you do all the study guides; he almost never deviates from them for exams.”

“Study guides, got it.” Essek pauses with a slight laugh. “I think—I think your dryer is done.”

“Oh.” Caleb falls silent. He’s right, the only one left running is Essek’s. “It is.”

He doesn’t move to fetch his laundry. It’s not like he has any place to _be_ right now. He’s only going to move from reading in this laundry room to reading on his couch. It’s been _nice_ , talking to another person without a phone being involved.

“Are you staying in the apartments over break?” Caleb asks, before he can wonder if that’s too much like prying.

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

“I think we might be the only ones.”

“I thought it was just me.” Caleb glances down, wincing at his bare chest. He’d been so wrapped up in the conversation, he’d forgotten the state of his clothes. “That’s why I’m—” He gestures at himself, like that explains anything at all. “I spilled a drink on my shirt and I didn’t have any clean laundry. Figured no one else would be here so it wouldn’t be a problem.”

A faint smile plays at the corners of Essek’s mouth. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it bordered on _flirtatious_. “It’s still not a problem.”

“Oh.”

Essek’s dryer buzzes, startling them both. His eyes dart away. “I didn’t—I mean—it doesn’t _bother_ me.”

“Right. Good.” Caleb hurries to stand up, gathering up his laundry basket to hide the burning on his face. He’s been attracted to Essek Thelyss since the man stood up in front of their Introductory Physics course and gave the most brilliant presentation on spacetime that he’s ever heard, but it’s not like they’ve ever spent _time_ together. To be honest, he’s not sure he’s seen Essek spending time with anyone.

Not that he’s been watching the man.

He hasn’t.

Much.

Caleb shoves his clothes into his basket as hastily as he can, sure that his thoughts are written all over his face. He needs to get out of here before Essek notices and this gets any more awkward than it already is.

“Caleb,” Essek calls, before Caleb can flee out the door with his things. He stops, hardly daring to turn around. “If you have an emergency or something, I live in 306.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Caleb shifts his basket onto his hip, to better reach the door handle. I’m in 332, if you—same.”

Essek nods and Caleb doesn’t run from the laundry room but it’s a very near thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a physics major. I took a physics class in high school in 2009. If there are any glaring mistakes in this or future chapters and you have a suggestion for something actual physics majors might be studying, I'm all ears.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re never going to guess who I ran into yesterday,” Caleb says, laying on the couch with his phone cradled against his ear.

“Ran into where?” Beau asks over the _thud thud thud_ of her fists against a punching bag. It sounds like more force than usual, although her voice is entirely even.

“In the laundry room.”

“Was it the ghost?”

“No, Beau.”

“Are you saying there’s _another_ person staying over winter break?” The sound of her fists stops for a moment before a softer rhythm picks up. Her feet on a mat, maybe doing jumping jacks. Caleb can only marvel at her ability to multi-task.

“Yes. It’s not that weird.”

“I don’t want to guess.” Her fist slams against the punching bag again. “Just tell me.”

“Essek Thelyss.”

She huffs out a breath but it sounds more like a laugh than exertion. “That weird guy from your physics classes?”

“He’s not weird.”

“You told us he almost blew up the chemistry building.”

“It was a chemistry class.” Caleb lifts a hand, drawing mindless patterns out of the dents in the ceiling. “Half of us almost blew up the building at least once.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“We’re having a conversation. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Tell you what I’ve been doing?”

“What you’ve been _doing_ , huh?” Beau’s voice goes low and dark, her background silent. Caleb can feel the heat rising in his cheeks already. He should’ve prattled on about his thesis until she hung up on him. “Do you have a crush on him?”

“What?” Caleb’s voice is too high to be convincing. He swallows hard against the dryness in his throat, forcing his voice back into a casual zone. “Of course not.”

“Then why are you telling me about it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s the most exciting thing to happen to me in days. It’s very boring without all of you around to create trouble.”

“Please.” It’s punctuated by what sounds like a roundhouse kick. “Like you’re not the one making trouble for us.”

“Even Clay says I spend too much time studying.”

“You _do_ spend too much time studying. And I don’t believe you. You couldn’t shut up about that guy after his presentation on—what was it?”

“Spacetime?”

“Sure, that.”

“His theories were fascinating!”

“I’m sure they were, Caleb. So are you going—oh, fuck.”

“What?”

Beau sighs, long and beleaguered. “My mom has Yasha cornered again. I’d better go rescue her.”

Caleb barely gets through, “Go save your girlfriend” before Beau is shouting her goodbye and hanging up. He sighs as he reaches for the book braced open on his chest. “I don’t have a crush on Essek. This isn’t middle school.”

Sure, Essek’s attractive. Sure, he’s brilliant whether he’s giving a presentation on paramagnetism or spacetime or the cosmic censorship hypothesis. Sure, Caleb’s had more than a few fantasies about shoving him up against the dustier shelves of the library and mussing up his perfect composure.

That doesn’t mean he has a _crush_.

It doesn’t. It’s just—intellectual curiosity. And even if his attraction to Essek _was_ something more, that doesn’t mean anything is going to come of it.

Caleb remembers Essek walking into the laundry room, the way his gaze lingered on his chest. Had he been thinking about how Caleb resembled a wet noodle, or was it something more?

He shakes his head, forcing the thoughts away. “Not happening, Widogast. Get used to it.”

***

“Wishful thinking,” Caleb mutters, staring at his empty mailbox. He doesn’t have anyone to write him, after all, but he’d thought he should check. Maybe there would be a Christmas card or a physics magazine that he forgot to cancel his subscription for.

No such luck.

He lets the door to his mailbox click closed as he hears the sound of feet coming down the stairs. He turns to see Essek emerging through the door to the stairwell.

“Oh.” Essek’s eyebrows rise in surprise, as though he’s forgotten that they both still live in this building. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

Neither of them moves for a few seconds before Essek continues across the floor and unlocks his own mailbox. Empty.

“I thought I might have a package, but it must be delayed by the snow.” Essek sighs and closes it again, leaning back against the wall of mailboxes. “I’m waiting on an essay collection on quantum gravity.”

Caleb drags his eyes away from the gray turtleneck outlining Essek’s muscles without being too tight. “It’s not _Beyond Spacetime: The Foundations of Quantum Gravity_ , is it?”

“It is.” Essek eyes him with curiosity that almost edges into suspicion. “Why?”

Caleb smiles back at him. “What would you say if I told you I already have a copy?”

“Could I—” Essek pauses, eyes darting away like he doesn’t want to appear too eager. The way he’s leaning away from the wall and his lips remain parted suggest that he is. Eager. “Could I borrow it?”

“Sure.” Caleb shrugs. “It’s not like I don’t know where you live.”

“I promise I’ll return it before the semester starts.”

“Deal.”

“Come on, then.” Caleb leads Essek towards the stairs. The silence between them feels heavy as they pass the second floor, the only sound the echo of their boots against the rubber.

“I heard we’re going to get six inches of snow tonight,” Caleb says. He could kick himself the moment the words are out of his mouth. The weather? Really?

Essek doesn’t seem put off, though, not when he hums in acknowledgment. “I heard nine.”

“Do you—do you like the snow?” Caleb asks as he steps off onto the third-floor landing and pushes through the door.

“I don’t have strong opinions about it.” Essek glances out the window, at the veritable winter wonderland outside. “It _is_ pretty, but mostly it’s just cold and blinding and it makes driving harder.”

“That’s all true.”

“Do _you_ like the snow?” Essek asks, watching Caleb unlock his door.

“Some parts of it.” Caleb holds the door open, wishing he’d thought to tidy up a bit before he’d gone downstairs to check the mail. It’s not like he’d _known_ he’d be inviting Essek back to his apartment. “Mostly the ones where I’m inside where it’s warm and the snow is outside where it belongs.”

Essek’s eyes scan the kitchen with open curiosity. “I thought it was practically a requirement to enjoy snow to come here.”

“Not for everyone.” Caleb laughs and kicks out of his boots. “I’ll be right back.”

Caleb leaves Essek standing alone in his kitchen.

Essek. Alone. In his kitchen.

He glances over his shoulder as he steps into the hallway, just in time to see the man creeping toward the stack of books he’d left on the breakfast bar. Smiling to himself, Caleb fetches the book from his room and returns to the kitchen. Essek’s eyes light up when he sees it and Caleb’s heart skips a beat.

“Thank you,” Essek says, sounding almost too formal. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

Their fingers brush as Caleb hands it over. Essek flinches like they’ve exchanged static electricity. “I’d better get out of your hair.”

“I hope you enjoy the book,” Caleb says, when all he really wants to say is Essek can stay as long as he likes. It’s not a crush, he just feels lonely in an empty apartment. “Later, Essek.”

“See you later, Caleb.”

***

Caleb sits on the floor, frowning, thesis research scattered across the carpet. He rubs a hand over his face, skin catching on the days of stubble there. He can’t remember the last time he slept but he _knows_ he’s close to a breakthrough.

If only he could figure out what the fuck that breakthrough is.

There’s a knock on the door. Caleb jumps, eying it like it might be the apartment ghost. As if a ghost would ever knock. He’s starting to think that he might’ve imagined it—it’s possible he’s so sleep-deprived he’s hallucinating—when the knock sounds again.

He glances down at his clothes—a university hoodie and jeans that he’s sure he’s been wearing at least two days—and decides he doesn’t care. Essek’s already seen him half-naked and smelling like Mountain Dew.

It isn’t until he finds him standing there, looking gorgeous and put-together, that Caleb suddenly has regrets. He forgets to worry about them when Essek looks up at him through long white eyelashes, wearing a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he says.

“You’re not bothering me,” Caleb says, too quickly. He glances back over his shoulder, his thesis chaos hidden by the kitchen and adds, “I was just working on my thesis.”

“How’s it going?”

“Terrible.” Caleb pauses only a moment before asking, “Is something wrong?”

“My car won’t start.” Essek holds up his keys on a _Go Moorbounders_ keyring. “I was hoping you might be able to give me a jump?”

“I can’t.” Caleb worries his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn’t read into the way Essek’s eyes dart to his mouth. “I don’t have a car.”

“Oh.” Essek lowers his hand, forehead creasing over in confusion. “Then how do you get groceries?”

“My roommate has a truck but mostly I walk.”

“Oh.”

Pity starts to rise in Essek’s eyes and Caleb tries not to growl at it. “It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“It’s 15 degrees outside!”

Caleb huffs a laugh. “I don’t mind the cold.”

“I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” Essek lets out a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. Caleb hates the way he can see the barriers coming down over his eyes, feel him withdrawing back into himself. “I should let you get back to work.”

“Wait.” Caleb takes a step forward, even though Essek hasn’t moved from his doorway. “How badly do you need groceries?”

“I have Italian dressing, a package of oyster crackers, and a half-dozen cans of soup I don’t even like.”

“Sounds like an emergency, then.”

“Don’t worry about it, Caleb.” Essek’s smile is tight-lipped and polite. “I’ll just go call someone to give me a jump.”

Caleb reaches out before he can think about it, catching Essek’s sleeve between his fingers. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Essek says, although his eyes don’t seem as sure. He doesn’t pull away from Caleb’s touch.

“Then go back to your room, put on as many layers as you can, and meet me back here in ten minutes.”

“Okay. Ten minutes.” Essek pulls away from him, then, and departs. Caleb lets the door swing closed. It’s only when he’s alone that the full weight of what he’d said crashes down on him.

It’s not like he can take a shower—his hair will freeze the moment he gets outside. It’s not like this is a _date_ or anything, but he still doesn’t want to look like he just crawled out of a three-day study binge. Even if he basically _did_.

He runs to the bathroom, cleans himself up best he can, changes into his warmest clothes, and frowns at his reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t have time to shave but he doesn’t look _that_ bad. More _lost in the woods for a few days_ than _hermit who hasn_ _’t seen a razor in twenty years._

“I don’t have a crush on him,” he tells his reflection.

 _Sure_ , Beau’s voice says in his head. _That_ _’s why you put on aftershave even though you haven’t shaved and you’re wearing the jeans that Molly says make your ass look good._

“Shut up.”

He leaves the bathroom and wonders if waiting in the kitchen will make him seem too eager. It’s not like Essek will even _know_. He paces instead. Picks up a few dishes in the sink, rinses them, puts them back. Moves a mixing bowl from the counter to the cabinet where it belongs. Checks to make sure the oven is off even though he’s pretty sure he hasn’t used it this week.

Essek knocks after ten minutes on the dot.

Caleb has to bite back a laugh as he opens the door to find Essek clearly wearing as many clothes as he can fit. His black peacoat puffs outward against the pressure of multiple layers beneath. There’s a fluffy blue scarf wrapped around his throat, ready to be pulled up over his face. Sleek jeans are tucked into fur-lined black boots.

“Are you sweating?” Caleb asks before he can stop himself.

“Yes. Is that bad?”

“Not if we get you outside.” Caleb grabs his grocery bag and keys from their hook. “Let’s go.”

The air outside is brutally cold, but the sun is out and that helps the temperature, with the drawback of blinding light reflecting off the blanket of snow around them. Still, it’s better than freezing rain or another blizzard.

“So,” Caleb says, as they follow the sidewalk off-campus in the direction of his favorite grocery store, “how did you find out about this place?”

“I’m an international student,” Essek says, through his scarf pulled up almost to his eyes. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to study with Professor Lutagran.”

“I haven’t had a class with him yet. Is it true he’s…eccentric?”

“That’s one way of putting it. His theories about alternate dimensions, though—” Essek waves a gloved hand through the air. “Let’s just say he couldn’t be more convincing if he took us to one on a field trip. What about you?”

“Me?” Caleb’s stomach turns as he looks both ways down the street and crosses out of habit. “My—my family had a cabin up here when I was young. I tried to apply to other schools but I couldn’t picture myself anywhere else.”

If Essek hears the sadness in his voice, he doesn’t ask about it. “It _is_ gorgeous.”

Caleb continues to guide them as they talk about the city, and their various courses, and their favorite and least favorite professors, until they finally come to a stop outside the store. “We’re here.”

“Oh.” Essek looks up at the door with surprise. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“See?” Caleb smiles at him. “It helps to have someone you can talk to, to distract from the cold.”

“Is that—is that how you do it?” Essek steps through the automated door, stripping off his leather gloves and flexing his fingers.

“Mostly I go with my roommate.” Caleb grabs a basket from the stack next to the door and wanders toward the first aisle. “But if he’s not here or busy, then I don’t mind walking down here by myself. Gives me plenty of time to think. If you want to grab what you need, we can meet outside. I promise not to strand you here.”

It doesn’t take long for Caleb to wrap up his shopping. He picks up a few essentials and some extra cans of soup and waits by the door, bag slung over one shoulder. Essek joins him a couple minutes later, laden down with plastic bags on both arms.

“You really carry all of your stuff back to your apartment?” he asks, huffing a little under the strain when they’ve only just started.

“I tend to shop light when I’m by myself.” Caleb glances over at him. “Do you need any help?”

“No, I’ve got it.” Essek straightens his shoulders, like saying it will make it true. “I should’ve thought this through. Maybe if we talk I won’t think about it, like with the cold.”

Caleb’s pulse thunders in his throat. “Talk about what?”

“You said earlier that you were working on your thesis, before I showed up and interrupted your afternoon.”

“You weren’t interrupting much.” Caleb kicks a chunk of ice off the sidewalk. “Like I said, it’s not going well. I feel like I ordered a puzzle and only half the pieces showed up.”

“What’s it about?”

“Quantum gravity, specifically the loop quantum gravity theory.”

Essek makes a considering hum. “Maybe you just need to find the rest of the pieces.”

“I hope so. I’m starting to feel like it’s worthless.”

“Any scientific pursuit has worth, whether it pans out in the end or not.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Caleb grumbles. “That presentation you did on spacetime was brilliant.”

Essek almost stumbles over a wayward chunk of ice and slams to a halt. Caleb freezes, hand outstretched to catch him until he realizes that he doesn’t need it. Essek steadies himself and looks up at him, eyes wide. “That was two years ago.”

“Yes?” Caleb raises an eyebrow. “Freshman year. Intro class. Even our professor was taking notes.”

“How do you even remember that?”

Caleb feels a flush rising on his cheeks and he only hopes that he can blame the cold. “Like I said, it was brilliant. I’d never heard anyone talk about M-theory the way you did.”

Essek starts moving again, keeping his eyes on the ground as they move forward. “Not everyone thought so.”

“Well.” Caleb shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other. He feels strangely guilty for the tense cast of Essek’s shoulders. “Some people can’t handle not being the smartest person in the room.”

“And you can?”

Caleb shrugs. “Science requires collaboration and I—sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Essek laughs, low and quiet, his breath puffing white in the cold air. His scarf has fallen down around his chin, revealing lips tinted a shade paler by the cold.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re already _more_ than enough, Caleb. I’d say that you’re the smartest person in most rooms.”

“Not when you’re there,” he teases.

“I don’t know about that.” Essek moves to skirt a patch of ice, his shoulder brushing against Caleb’s. “Do you remember what you asked me, when I invited questions in my presentation?”

“I asked if you’d considered double field theory.”

“And with one question you hit a nail into a hole in my research. I _hadn_ _’t_ considered it and I should have.”

“You looked so angry when I said that.” Caleb nudges Essek with his elbow, directing him to cross the street. He can see the trees on the outskirts of campus.

“I _was_.” Essek lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of familiarity, rolling his shoulders. “But I wasn’t angry at you. I went—I went back to the professor two weeks later and asked her to let me redo the presentation. _It wouldn’t be_ _fair_ , she said, and she was right, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I hated the idea that you saw anything less than my best work.”

Caleb’s stomach trembles at _you_. Not _everyone_ , or _anyone_ , or _the class._ “What—what happened to it? Your research, I mean?”

“I’m still working on it.” Essek shrugs, stride quickening as he spots their apartment building. “It might be my graduate thesis, if I don’t find another avenue of research I prefer.”

“I’d love—I’d love to see it. If you want me to, I mean.”

Essek’s breath clouds in the air in quick bursts. “I’m working on part of it at the moment. When it’s ready, I’ll send it to you.”

“Okay.” Caleb jerks his head toward the building, just across the parking lot. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

***

Caleb tucks the last can of soup into the cabinet. He leaves it open, contemplating how much time he can waste reorganizing them and then cleaning out the fridge, anything to avoid thinking about his damn thesis. There’s a knock on the door—a steady rhythm that’s rapidly becoming familiar.

“Did you forget something?” Caleb asks, raising his hands in time for a book to be shoved into them.

“I wanted to bring this to you,” Essek says, nodding at the book. “I think it might help you with your thesis, or at least contain a few pieces of the puzzle.”

“Essek…” Caleb trails off, unable to think of anything more to say.

It’s _Tunnel durch Raum und Zeit. Einsteins Erbe - Schwarze L_ _öcher, Zeitreisen und Überlichtgeschwindigkeit._ A first edition.

“How did you—” Caleb pauses, torn between shaking his head and pinching himself. “How do you know I can read this?”

Essek chuckles. “You cursed in German in chemistry, whenever you were frustrated. Wait—you _can_ —”

“Yes,” Caleb laughs. “I don’t _only_ speak the curse words. I—thank you. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been looking for this.”

“I hope it helps.” Essek shifts nervously. “I don’t speak a word of German so I’m glad it’ll be useful to someone.”

“If you don’t speak German, then why _—_ ”

“It was sent to me by mistake.” Essek’s mouth twitches in something like a grimace. “I never bothered to send it back. Maybe I—I don’t know. I should get back to my apartment. I haven’t finished putting away my groceries.”

Caleb’s mouth twitches and he clutches the book to his chest. “You don’t want that ice cream to melt.”

“No, I suppose not.” Essek pauses, holding Caleb’s gaze like there’s something more he wants to say. “Bye, Caleb.”

“Bye, Essek.”

He leaves and Caleb moves out of the way to let the door close. He stands there, imagining Essek abandoning his groceries on the floor to bring Caleb a book that he’d had no reason to keep, not even knowing for sure if Caleb could read it or already had it. He doesn’t move, staring at _Tunnel durch Raum und Zeit_ for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both books mentioned in this chapter actually exist.  
>  _Beyond Spacetime: The Foundations of Quantum Gravity_ edited by Nick Huggett, Keizo Matsubara, Christian Wüthrich  
>  _Tunnel durch Raum und Zeit_ by Rüdiger Vaas
> 
> All mentions of physics in this chapter were the result of an evening Googling different concepts that I think Essek and Caleb would find interesting and pretending to understand the words that I was reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter was actually scheduled to be posted tomorrow, and then I started writing. And writing. And writing. Long story short, there will still be a chapter posted tomorrow and you might've noticed the number of chapters has been updated to 6. Merry Christmas. :)

_Tunnel durch Raum und Zeit_ is everything Caleb hoped it would be. He reads it three times in a row, hugs it to his chest for half an hour, and reads it a fourth. Then, when he’s sure he hasn’t missed a single detail, he sits down with a fresh pile of notebook paper and begins to write.

He feels _inspired_ in a way that he hasn’t in a long time. He barely remembers to eat, wakes up on the couch in a puddle of drool more often than he cares to admit, but there’s a fresh layer of notes scattered across his living room floor.

He feels like he’s really onto something this time.

It doesn’t escape his notice that it’s all thanks to Essek.

***

The next time Essek knocks on Caleb’s door, it’s to hand him a flash drive instead of a book.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Caleb says, taking it without a second thought. “I wanted to thank you for your help on my thesis.”

“The book is helping, then?”

“I think it gave me more than a few missing pieces.” Caleb scrubs a hand across his rapidly growing beard, refusing to be self-conscious about the fact that he keeps forgoing things like shaving and eating in favor of reading. “I’m not sure I could’ve done it without it.”

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten there in the end.” Essek’s smile is shy as his eyes dart down toward the flash drive. “It’s my presentation.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to look at it right away. Or ever, if you’re not still interested.” Essek’s hand twitches, like he might try to take it back.

Caleb stares down at it for a second and realizes—he doesn’t want it. Not like this, at least. It doesn’t feel right. “Would you mind presenting it to me?”

Essek flinches, eyes widening. “Why?”

“What good is a presentation if I can’t ask questions?” Caleb asks, his voice low and teasing.

“Well then.” Essek clears his throat and holds out his open palm. Caleb hands over the flash drive. “Are you busy now?”

“No,” Caleb says, refusing to think about his thesis all over the floor and the fact that he hasn’t eaten lunch. “Could we go to your place, though? Mine is a little—it’s a disaster.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I can’t remember what color my living room carpet is because I haven’t seen it in days.”

Essek smiles but doesn’t laugh. “Okay, we can go to mine.”

Caleb follows behind him without bothering to lock his door. It’s not like there’s anyone _here_ to rob him.

Essek’s apartment looks exactly the same as Caleb’s, albeit slightly smaller as a single. It’s relatively barren except for the books and stacks of notes scattered in a far more organized fashion than Caleb’s chaos. At the center of the dining room table, there are cuts of black glass on a metal frame in the shape of a dodecahedron.

Caleb wanders closer, holding his hand above it, resisting the urge to explore. The thing makes a soft _click_ noise and comes to life, the sides lighting up with hundreds— _thousands_ —of stars.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Essek says.

Caleb jerks his hand away, but when he looks over at Essek he finds the drow watching him with curiosity. “It’s amazing. What is it?”

“My mother makes them.” Essek lifts it from the table, turning it to show off the twelve sides, each displaying an entirely different set of stars. “She’d prefer I not give away the family secret—she likes it when people think they’re magic.”

“What’s powering it?” Caleb can’t help but ask as Essek settles the dodecahedron back onto the table.

“Solar power.”

“The sun powering the stars. Poetic.”

Essek nods, making his way to the living room. Caleb follows, a bit more slowly, pausing to take in the titles of Essek’s various books. He recognizes a few of them from his own physics and mathematics courses, others he’s heard of, some he’s never seen before. His hands itch towards those, wondering what secrets they might hold.

“Make yourself at home,” Essek says, hooking up his laptop to the TV. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“What?” Caleb looks up from skimming the first few pages of the book on Essek’s breakfast bar. “Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“You ready for this presentation or would you rather read all my books?” Essek teases.

Caleb startles, ten pages into the book already. He looks up to find Essek standing patiently beside his TV, powerpoint queued up on the screen. He drops the book back onto the table and settles on the couch with his legs tucked up beside him. “I’m listening, Professor Thelyss.”

Essek blinks, twice, the tips of his ears turning a darker shade of blue. It only lasts a second before he says, “Then welcome to _The M Doesn_ _’t Stand for Magic…”_

It only takes a few minutes for Caleb to forget that there’s a world outside the two of them. Essek’s voice wraps around him and refuses to let go, the passion for his work apparent in every word. Caleb sits in rapt attention, unable to look away. He might as well be a nervous freshman again, sitting in intro physics, awestruck with the beautiful drow man blowing him away.

Caleb doesn’t curb the questions that pop into his head—it’s not like there’s anyone else here that will be bothered. It isn’t long before Essek has to retrieve a notebook to jot down thoughts and new avenues for exploration and it isn’t long before it’s less a presentation and more a discussion of the topic at hand.

Daylight melts around them as afternoon turns to evening, until Essek yawns and Caleb’s stomach growls. It’s only when Caleb glances out the window that he realizes evening gave way to night when he wasn’t paying attention. He yanks his phone out of his pocket to discover it’s after ten.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says, trying to remember when Essek had shown up at his door. Four? Five? Earlier? “I had no idea it was this late.”

Essek laughs, biting back another yawn. Sheets of paper are scattered across the coffee table between them. His laptop is disconnected from the TV and rests on the floor beside him. Books—some propped open, some closed—are scattered throughout the mess. “It happens.”

“We should pick this up tomorrow. I have a book on BFSS matrix model that you might find interesting.”

“I’ll come over around eleven?”

“Okay.” Caleb gets up, his legs stiff from sitting still for so long. He starts to reach for his stuff, only to remember that he’s surrounded by Essek’s notes rather than his own. “Good night.”

Essek’s still scribbling notes but he looks up, meeting his eyes for only a moment. “Good night, Caleb.”

***

Caleb cleans enough that he feels like Essek will at least have room to move—finishing just in time as the man shows up at precisely eleven. His face is half-hidden behind a stack of books and papers, laptop bag hanging from one hand, when Caleb opens the door.

“How did you even get through your door like that?” Caleb asks, as Essek deposits the stack on the coffee table with a grateful sigh.

“Very carefully.” Essek sets his laptop down and immediately begins to sort through his stack of notes. He lands on a page about halfway through what looks like a fairly new notebook. “After you left last night, I had a thought—”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Couple hours, why?”

“No reason.”

“Anyway—” Essek immediately launches into a lecture about his latest thought and Caleb lets any matter of actual self-care go. It’s not like he has room to talk.

Caleb looks down at his notes and when he looks back up, it’s dark outside again. He gets up, knees clicking, and plugs in his Christmas tree. It’s barely a couple feet high, but it provides a nice soft glow. As he straightens, his stomach growls loud enough that Essek raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t have much for two,” Caleb says, apologetic. “Do you want to order something?”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza’s always good.” Caleb steps carefully across the living room to not disturb his notes and opens the drawer in the kitchen filled with menus. There aren’t a ton of choices here but there are enough—and there’s definitely pizza. “What do you like?”

“Sun-dried tomatoes, mushrooms, and feta cheese.”

“Got it.” Caleb dials the number by memory and orders two personal pizzas—one to Essek’s specifications and one with salami. “It’ll be here in forty minutes.”

“How much do I owe you?” Essek asks, reaching for his pocket before shaking his head. “I can go get—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Caleb says, settling back down with his notes. “You can get it next time.”

Essek’s mouth plays at a smile as he says, “Next time.”

When the delivery person texts to let them know they’re on the way, Essek runs downstairs to meet them. Ten minutes later, his return is accompanied by the mouth-watering smell of Caleb’s favorite pizza.

“All right,” Essek says, handing over Caleb’s box and settling back down with his notes. “Where were we?”

“You called loop quantum gravity _inelegant_ and I asked you to explain.” Caleb pulls out a piece of pizza and sits back against his couch. “Go on, then. Explain.”

“Right, right.” Essek opens his own pizza box and eagerly launches into another lively debate. The pizzas disappear, followed by a bag of popcorn Caleb finds in the cupboard. Before either of them knows what’s happening, it’s after midnight and Caleb is half-asleep with his forehead on the table.

“I should go,” Essek says, leaving his work where it is as he stands up. “Good night, Caleb.”

“Good night, Essek.”

***

They don’t talk about it.

If Essek leaves his work in Caleb’s living room, then Caleb can expect him to show up promptly at eleven the next day. If he packs up his things, Caleb knows it’s his turn to go to Essek’s.

It’s _nice_ , spending time with him. He isn’t sure he’s ever worked with someone who felt like they were on exactly the same wave-length as him, at least not since high school and that turned out to be a disaster.

He’s not sure what’s going to happen, doesn’t know what Essek _wants_ to happen—if this will end with winter break, or if they’ll stay friends and keep working together. All he knows is he’s making more progress on his thesis now than he has since he first started and he’s going to take advantage of that for as long as he can.

As long as Essek will have him.

***

Caleb leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes. He only needs to rest for a minute. He can hear Essek beside him, flipping through a book to find a section on mysterious duality. It’s after one in the morning but there’s something there, he _knows_ there is.

When Caleb opens his eyes again, there’s sunlight streaming through the windows, a terrible ache in his neck, and a strange weight in his lap. Essek’s head is pillowed against his thigh, pale hair fanned against Caleb’s jeans. He’s still asleep.

It’s Christmas Eve, Caleb realizes absently, staring at his still-lit Christmas tree and trying to decide what to do about Essek _sleeping on him._

He could try to move Essek’s head to the couch so that he can get up without waking him, but waking him up trying to do that might be worse. Maybe he should just wait for Essek to wake up on his own. Maybe he should wake him. Maybe he should pretend to be asleep, let Essek make the decision to move away or not.

He’s leaning towards pretending to be asleep when Essek stretches, making a dissatisfied hum, and opens his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” Caleb says, unnecessarily.

Essek sits up. There’s an imprint from the hem of Caleb’s jeans on his cheek. “I only meant to close my eyes for a minute.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

Essek scrubs a hand over his face and gets to his feet. His hair sticks up on one side, sleep-tousled in a way that makes Caleb’s chest tight. He wanders over to the window, tipping his head back into the sun. “We got about a foot of snow last night.”

“Sounds about right.” Caleb leans back against the couch, closing his eyes. He knows he needs to get up to take a shower but he can’t bring himself to move.

“You know,” Essek says, looking out across the street, “I’ve never actually built a snowman.”

“You haven’t?” Caleb lifts himself from the couch and joins him at the window, following his gaze to the handful of kids playing in the snow. They already have two snowmen and they seem to be working on a third.

“There isn’t much snow where I’m from. And here—I’ve been busy.”

“Let’s go.” Caleb doesn’t realize that he’s grabbed Essek’s hand until the man looks down. “We can build one.”

“Right now?” Essek runs his free hand through his hair. “Don’t you think we should shower first?”

“We should shower after,” Caleb says, trying not to think about Essek with water coursing down the lines of his body. “Unless you want to see how it feels to have frozen hair.”

“Okay.” Essek pulls slowly out of Caleb’s hand and if his fingers linger for a moment too long then Caleb must be imagining it. “Show me how to build a snowman.”

“Go bundle up first.”

Essek nods and departs. Caleb takes advantage to brush his teeth, pull his hair back with a tie, and throw on his warmest clothes. “What are you doing, Widogast?” he mutters to himself, pulling on his boots. “We should build a snowman? What is this, a Disney movie?”

Essek bursts through the door, dressed the same as he was the day they walked to the grocery store. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he says.

“Yes, I celebrate Christmas.”

“I—” Essek hesitates as Caleb straightens up and pulls on his leather gloves. “I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Do you really want to spend your Christmas Eve out in the cold with me?” Essek looks more surprised than anything else, like Caleb _must_ have other plans when he’s living alone in the apartments during winter break.

Caleb smiles at him. “I can either help you build your first snowman or I can stay here and keep working on my thesis. I’d hate for you to be all bundled up for nothing.”

Essek stutters out a laugh and Caleb reaches past him to open the door. It’s a crisp day outside, cold enough to feel like Christmas Eve but not so cold that Caleb’s face burns from the wind off the water. The fresh snow is soft and light, clouding into the air when he kicks it.

Caleb walks Essek through forming the three snowballs until their snowman takes shape. It’s a tall one, almost as tall as the two of them, although not nearly as impressive as the eight-foot tall snowman that had appeared overnight the previous year.

“It was engineering, I’m telling you,” Essek says when Caleb asks if he remembers it. “No one else could’ve done it.”

“But how did they get the head on top?” Caleb wanders along the snow mountains at the edge of the parking lot, searching for pieces of asphalt to turn into eyes.

“Maybe they had someone from the physics department helping them with the calculations.” Essek winks at him, pushing a stick into the side of the snowman’s torso.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Caleb deadpans, returning with mismatched stones for eyes. “You’re holding out on me.”

“What can I say? I promised to take their secret to the grave.”

Essek adds a second stick-arm while Caleb arranges an extra scarf around the snowman’s neck. “Perfect.”

“Are we done?”

“Only if you think we’re done,” Caleb says, backing up carefully. While Essek’s considering the snowman, he leans down and scoops up a snowball.

“Aren’t snowmen supposed to have hats?” Essek asks, in the same moment that Caleb takes careful aim and lets the snowball fly. It hits Essek square in the back of the head, snow spraying in his hair and down the back of his coat. He makes an indignant sound a lot like a squawk but it doesn’t stop him from grabbing his own snowball.

“You’re going to regret that,” Essek says, as his snowball shatters across Caleb’s face.

Caleb blinks snow out of his eyes and scoops up another. “Make me.”

Essek’s smile is filled with challenge. The fight carries on across the parking lot and beyond, to where a few spindly spruce trees offer a bit of protection. It isn’t until Caleb can’t stop shivering and snow is dripping down both their shirts that Caleb calls, “Truce?”

“Truce,” Essek agrees. He falls onto his back in the snow, waving his arms and legs in a half-hearted snow angel. There’s snow in his hair and caught in his collar and clinging to his eyelashes. He looks so fucking beautiful with his cheeks flushed in the cold that Caleb’s whole chest aches.

 _You have a crush on him,_ Beau’s voice echoes in his head. _Admit it._

He can’t deny the warmth that blossoms in his chest every time he looks at Essek, every time he makes him laugh, every time his eyes light up with a new idea. Not anymore. _I do._

“Is there something on my face?” Essek asks, looking up at him with his head tilted. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Just snow,” Caleb says, hoping that he can pass off the unsteadiness in his voice as a side-effect of his shivering. He offers his hand and Essek takes it, letting Caleb pull him up to standing.

“Are you okay? You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.” Caleb reluctantly lets go of Essek’s hand and takes a step toward their apartment building. “Might’ve been that last one you shoved _down my coat_.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t gotten snow down _my_ pants, it wouldn’t have been necessary.” They trudge across the parking lot, waving at the snowplows as they pull in.

Caleb clenches his jaw before he can say, _Maybe next time you should wear tighter pants._ “We didn’t even get a chance to name our snowman,” he says instead.

“What about Einstein?”

“I think we have to go back and give him hair for that.” Caleb pulls off his scarf, snow scattering across the tile floor, the moment he’s inside the building.

“How do you feel about Clausius?”

“Clausius, huh?” Caleb glances back through the glass door at their snowman, the tassels of his scarf waving in the breeze. “Clausius it is.”

When they reach the third floor, they go their separate ways without speaking. Caleb returns to his room, shaking the snow out of his clothing before he pours himself into a shower. It’s several minutes before he’s able to stop shivering.

He doesn’t think about how badly he wants Essek to be here. How much it hurts that he wants to kiss him. He doesn’t deserve that, any of it. He’ll ruin it, just like he ruined things with Astrid, just like he ruined his family.

He’s lucky to have Essek as a friend. It’s safer that way, as friends. He’d learned that when the Mighty Nein wormed their way into his life, Veth on the first day of orientation, the others during the first few weeks of freshman year.

“We’re friends,” Caleb says, as he turns the water off. “Just friends.”

He repeats it to himself when he leaves the front door unlocked, just in case.

Again, when Essek barges in just past noon, carrying his books and notes and laptop like nothing has changed.

Again, every time Essek’s nose crinkles as he grapples with a difficult question and Caleb’s chest aches with the desire to throw himself across the coffee table and kiss him.

“I’d better go,” Essek says, packing up his things. “I wouldn’t want to fall asleep on your couch again.”

“Of course,” Caleb says, half-choking on it. “Terrible on my neck.”

Essek pauses, messenger bag slung over his shoulder, packed too full of his laptop and notes and books to zip. “Thank you,” he says, the words as delicate as snowflakes. “For today. I had fun.”

“I did too.” Caleb swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry. He glances at his Christmas tree, _Will you spend Christmas with me?_ swelling in his throat. He doesn’t even try to tell himself that he doesn’t want to be alone on the holiday. He could go to Veth’s house if that were true. No, he wants to spend Christmas with _Essek_.

Essek, who doesn’t celebrate Christmas.

Essek, who probably doesn’t feel the same way about him.

So when Essek says “Good night,” Caleb says only, “Good night” in return and ignores the ache in his heart as he watches the door snap closed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Minor instances of PTSD and backstory somewhat consistent with Caleb in canon

Caleb wakes to the relentless vibrating of his phone on the table next to his bed. There are twenty messages in the Mighty Nein group text, most of them some variation of “Merry Christmas!” or “You too!”

He groans and shoots out a “Merry Christmas” of his own before his phone slips from his hand and lands on his face. It buzzes against his nose.

Beau: “You too, Caleb. How’s Essek?”

Before Caleb can figure out how to respond, there’s a flurry of texts.

Yasha: “What’s this about Essek?”

Fjord: “Who’s Essek?”

Jester: “You mean that guy Caleb’s been in love with since freshman year?”

Caleb: “I’m not love with him!”

Beau: “That’s the one, Jes. Totally in love with him.”

Veth: “They had intro physics together and he wouldn’t shut up about timespace or whatever for weeks.”

Caleb: “It’s…spacetime.”

Beau: “Nerd.”

Fjord: “Didn’t he almost blow up the chemistry lab?”

Caleb: “Okay why are those the only two things you guys remember about him?”

Jester: “Is there something else we should remember?”

Clay: “Let the man speak.”

Caleb’s phone quiets for a minute, finally. He takes a deep breath, thinking of all-day study sessions and waking up on the couch together and Essek breathless and covered in snow. He doesn’t know how to distill all that into a text, isn’t sure he _wants_ to. He doesn’t know what it all means, and it feels nice to have something that’s wholly _his_ , even if it’s going to end in just a couple more weeks.

Caleb: “He’s fine. We’ve been studying together.”

Jester: “Is that a euphemism?”

Caleb: “No, we were really studying. He’s helping me with my thesis and I’m helping him on what might be his masters thesis.”

Beau: “You’re not becoming any less of a nerd.”

Jester: “So are you spending Christmas with him?”

Caleb: “He doesn’t celebrate Christmas.”

Yasha: “Neither does Clay.”

Molly: “Can you all please shut up I’m trying to sleep”

Beau: “Then mute your notifications, you dick. Just because you’re sleeping until three in the afternoon doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

Veth: “If you don’t have plans, you’re still welcome at ours, Caleb.”

Caleb: “Thanks, Veth, but I’m going to try to cook a cornish hen and I don’t want any of you to witness my failure.”

Veth: “If you burn it, let me know and I’ll bring you some leftovers.”

Fjord: “Do NOT burn down our apartment.”

Caleb sighs and pulls himself out of bed, setting his phone to a playlist of Christmas music in the hope that it might get him in something resembling the spirit. “All I Want for Christmas Is You” plays as he climbs into the shower.

The holidays have never felt quite right, not since his parents died, but he’s never had to spend them alone before. Astrid and Eadwulf had been there for him in those first couple of years _after._ Veth had insisted it was no trouble to have him crash in her guest room for winter break when he was a lonely freshman. Jester had dragged him and Fjord to her mother’s house sophomore year.

He doesn’t know what he would’ve done without them, especially in those days when staying in the on-campus dorms during winter break wasn’t permitted. It feels weird, now, being alone.

He plugs in his Christmas tree and pauses to rest a ceramic ornament against his palm. _Widogast 2006_ is painted on one side. He flips it over to reveal _Leofric Una Caleb_ on the other side, painted in a child’s shaky handwriting.

“ _Frohe Weihnachten_ ,” he murmurs, and lets the ornament go.

_The Lost Christmas Eve_ plays as he makes breakfast and he can’t help but hum along. He’s just settling down with his thesis notes again—nothing else to do to occupy his mind—when there’s a knock on the door. He frowns; Essek hasn’t bothered with knocking in days.

“Caleb,” Essek says, shifting on the balls of his feet. There’s a little furrow between his brows and the messenger bag over his shoulder looks much lighter than usual. “I know it’s Christmas and I don’t want to intrude on your holiday—”

“Come in,” Caleb interrupts, stepping out of the way. “You’re not intruding.”

Essek opens his mouth like he might be about to protest but he comes in anyway. It’s only when he’s settling down on the floor in the same place he always does that Caleb realizes the music is still playing.

“ _Tell me, how many times can this story be told? / After all of these years, it should all sound so old / But it somehow rings true in the back of my mind / As I search for a dream that words can no longer define_.”

“I’m sorry.” Caleb scans the living room until he spots his phone on the arm of the couch. “I can turn that off.”

“It’s fine,” Essek says, pausing as Caleb turns the music down but leaves it playing. “You don’t have plans today?”

“Dinner for one.” Caleb sits on the couch, more nervous now than the first time he went over to Essek’s apartment. It’s Christmas Day, and Essek is here, and “ _Reading by the light of a lost Christmas Day / It begins_ _”_ is emanating from his phone. The moment feels heavy, in a way that Christmases with Veth or Fjord and Jester didn’t. He focuses on his thesis notes rather than Essek’s face. “Two, if you want to stay.”

He braces himself for all the usual questions about his family but they don’t come. All Essek says is, “I would love to.”

***

It isn’t all that different from any other day they’ve spent together. Caleb runs through a full twenty pages of new notes, gets into a lively debate with Essek over the exact number of probable dimensions, and tries not to stare at the cupid-bow of Essek’s mouth as he speaks.

It doesn’t _feel_ the same, though. It’s something more than the quiet Christmas music playing in the background while they work, or the occasional text the Mighty Nein send Caleb to make sure he’s doing okay, or the way Essek taps his fingers to the rhythm of “Wizards in Winter.”

Caleb can’t put his finger on it, not until evening rolls around and he pulls himself away from his notes to make dinner. For the two of them.

They’ve ordered in pizza, and Thai, and Chinese, and chicken wraps from the sports bar just down the street from Caleb’s favorite grocery store, but he’s never cooked for him. It’s not like his cooking skills are anything special. He’s good enough to follow basic instructions from the internet but he’s not about to put out a three-course meal or anything.

As he watches the oven preheat, he pulls out his phone and finds his text chain with Veth.

Caleb: “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to do Christmas at home this year. Don’t worry about me, I’m not alone.”

He puts his phone down, expecting Veth to be occupied with her husband or her soon-to-be child, but the screen lights up almost immediately.

Veth: “???????!!!!!!!!!!!”

Caleb: “It’s not like that.”

Veth: “Caleb, you’re a terrible liar.”

Caleb: “I’m not lying.”

Caleb: “Okay maybe I am.”

Caleb: “I really like him, okay? Please don’t tell everyone.”

Veth: “You and I both know I’m a much better liar than you are. Does Essek know how you feel yet?”

Caleb glances around the breakfast bar to where Essek is sitting on the floor. He’s humming along, now, barely loud enough for Caleb to hear. It doesn’t feel like he’s intruding on Caleb’s Christmas Day or his life; it feels like this was inevitable.

“Do you need any help?” Essek calls without looking up from his scribbling notes.

“No,” Caleb says, turning hurriedly back to the oven just in time for it to beep. “It’s nothing fancy.”

To Veth, he texts, “Not yet” and shoves his phone into his pocket so he won’t see her response. Dinner is just a cornish hen, mashed potatoes, canned green beans, and an apple pie he picked up from the store because he doesn’t have the heart to bake one himself. He stands guard over the lot of it, without even a book to distract him. The food doesn’t come out perfectly, but he doesn’t burn anything.

He sends a quick “Didn’t burn the apartment down” text to the Mighty Nein group chain and tries to ignore the kicking sensation in his stomach. “Food’s ready,” Caleb says, checking to make sure the oven is off for the sixth time.

“It looks good,” Essek says, inhaling as he joins him in the kitchen. He takes a hearty serving of everything. “Thank you for—for sharing with me.”

“No problem. I wouldn’t be able to eat all this by myself.” Caleb checks to make sure the oven is off twice more as he dishes out his own plate and again before he steps into the living room. He sets his plate down on the coffee table and feels a familiar surge of panic in his gut.

“Is everything okay?” Essek asks, as he rushes back to the kitchen. One more time. He just needs to check one more time.

“Fine.” Caleb rests his fingers on the Off button but doesn’t press it. The oven _is_ off. “I’m paranoid about this stuff.”

He leaves the oven alone and settles back down on the couch. “How is it?” he asks, even though Essek is well into his plate so if it’s not good, he’s making a fine show of it.

Essek swallows a mouthful of potatoes. “It’s delicious.”

“Easy for you to say,” Caleb says, his smile teasing. “You’ve been living off oyster crackers and scrambled eggs in between take-out orders.”

Essek laughs. “Makes me appreciate good food when I have it.”

“I usually watch _The Year Without a Santa Claus_ and _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ on Christmas Day,” Caleb says, one they’ve finished eating. “We don’t have to if you want to keep working—or I can put it on and you can just ignore it. It—it _was_ a family tradition.”

Essek clambers up from the floor and joins him on the couch, bringing his notes with him. “We can watch anything you want.”

Caleb nods, ignoring the tremble in his stomach, and returns their plates to the kitchen. He only checks the oven once—progress—before he puts the DVD in and sits back down on the couch.

As _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ plays, Caleb finds himself watching Essek more than the movie. He’s seen it every year for as long as he can remember, knows the whole movie by heart, but Essek can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the screen. There’s a twitch in his mouth and a furrow in his brow as Rudolph’s father insists on the baby reindeer hiding his red nose.

“What is the point of this movie?” Essek asks, as Santa asks Rudolph to guide his sleigh. “Is it that you have to hide who you are until it’s useful to someone?”

Caleb grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and covers his legs. “I think it’s that if you feel like you don’t fit in, then you just haven’t found your place in life.”

Essek frowns deeply but he doesn’t speak through the end of the movie, his eyes flashing with the light of the TV. When it’s over, Caleb switches it out for _The Year Without a Santa Claus._ They watch the movie, and talk, and eat slices of apple pie, and it gets dark without either of them noticing. It’s not until Caleb turns off the TV and the only light is coming from the Christmas tree in the corner that Caleb realizes how _intimate_ it all feels.

“You watch these movies every year?” Essek asks, his face practically glowing in the warm light. He shifts on the couch and it’s only then that Caleb realizes his feet are tucked up under the blanket, next to Caleb’s thigh.

“I try to. My—my mom watched _The Year Without A Santa Claus_ when she was a kid too. She said it didn’t feel like Christmas without it.”

Essek nods and Caleb braces himself for the questions again. Instead, he says, “I think I liked that one.”

“Not _Rudolph?_ _”_

“They don’t even _apologize—_ I just don’t think it’s the right message to send to children.” Essek falls silent, picking up his notebook and staring at it even though it’s much too dark to read. There’s barely any space between them. It would be almost nothing for Caleb to reach across the couch, find Essek’s chest, his arm, his cheek. He wants to touch him, wants to see him look up, wants to climb into his lap, wants to press him down into the couch and kiss and touch until neither of them can take any more.

“I should go,” Essek says, gathering up the notes strewn on the couch. “I don’t want to take up any more of your Christmas.”

“Stay,” Caleb blurts out, before he can stop himself. He looks out the window at the snow coming down in thick flakes, lit by the street lights. “I have a question I’ve been meaning to run by you. I can make hot chocolate and we can watch the snow.”

Essek raises an eyebrow, looking doubtful, but he puts his things down anyway. “Okay. Will you—put the music on again?”

“This music?” Caleb clicks a playlist and “Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24” begins to play.

“That’s it.” Essek nods along with the beat, rearranging his notes around him. Caleb makes two mugs of hot cocoa—with mini marshmallows and a pinch of cinnamon, just like his father always did—and they curl back up on the couch. As the night goes on, Caleb feels warm and loose and relaxed, like he might’ve slipped something into his own drink by accident.

“You’re brilliant,” Caleb says, when the conversation lulls. The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to shove them back in.

“I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” Essek teases but he’s smiling just the same. “We should collaborate on something next semester.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Caleb can’t agree fast enough, shoving thoughts of his full course-load and thesis aside. “Something with conformal field theory?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Caleb blinks, only to realize that they’ve somehow moved closer and closer together without his notice. He doesn’t remember leaning away from the arm of the couch, or Essek pushing his feet under Caleb’s thighs, or when Essek’s hand found its way to the back of the couch to prop his head up. He doesn’t remember any of it, but it all must’ve happened because here they are—leaning towards each other and sharing Caleb’s afghan.

Essek’s eyes dart away from Caleb’s face, lingering on _Tunnel durch Raum und Zeit_ on the coffee table. His hair shimmers in the Christmas lights like it’s filled with the stars.

Distantly, Caleb can hear “ _Let it go! / Let it go! / This old world that I know / For soon everything will be changing.”_

He doesn’t feel like he can get enough air in his lungs as he says, “I can read it to you, if you’re interested.”

“No, it’s—” Essek shakes his head, directing his attention to his mug of cocoa instead. There’s only a few dregs remaining. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“Okay?” Caleb pauses, waiting for Essek to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “I’m lost.”

“I’ve had that book all semester.” Essek sets his mug on the coffee table with a soft _clunk_. “I received it by accident and then I just kept saying _I_ _’ll send it back later,_ but instead I kept thinking about giving it to you.”

“You did?”

“I thought about it every time we had class together, dropping it in my bag and catching you afterward to ask if you wanted it.” Essek drags his gaze away from the book and meets Caleb’s eyes for the first time. “I guess what I’m saying is I don’t believe in fate, but sometimes coincidences align so it _feels_ a lot like fate.”

Caleb’s breath catches in his throat. He can feel coincidences lining up like stars—scheduling the same intro physics course, the same chemistry course, a spilled Mountain Dew, a chance meeting in the laundry room, two empty mailboxes, a car that wouldn’t start. “Why didn’t you?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Essek’s fingers clench in the afghan. “I always made some excuse—you looked busy, maybe I hadn’t heard you speak German, maybe you already had it, maybe the book was too introductory to be helpful to you.”

“I’m glad you gave it to me when you did,” Caleb says, soft as velvet. “If you’d given it to me earlier, we may not have run into each other.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Maybe not.” Caleb tries not to think about how easy it would be to reach out and run his fingers through Essek’s hair. “I only got a Mountain Dew because I was struggling with my thesis.”

A smile plays at Essek’s mouth. “Another fateful coincidence.”

“Essek,” Caleb says, catching the way he swallows at the sound of his own name, “we never have to talk about this again, but can—”

“Go on,” Essek interrupts, his voice a breath across Caleb’s face. “Kiss me.”

Caleb tosses his reservations aside, cups Essek’s cheek in his palm, and does.

It’s barely a brush of their lips together, soft and slow, testing the waters. Essek’s lips part on a soft sigh and Caleb tilts his head for a better angle, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. Caleb’s heart soars as his fears that Essek is going to abandon him melt away.

“ _In a single night / You know it all has changed / Everything is now how it should be.”_

Essek’s hand finds its way to Caleb’s neck, thumb running across the stubble along his jawline. The sensation runs through Caleb like a shock, grounding him, reminding him that this is really happening. It’s not just some fantasy his mind has conjured up after a few too many late nights.

Caleb traces Essek’s bottom lip with his tongue, chasing the taste of chocolate and cinnamon, and Essek’s lips part to allow him inside. It feels much like their study sessions do—a slow give-and-take, each of them getting a feel for the others’ ideas and desires. Caleb wonders if he should be taking notes, when he presses his tongue to the roof of Essek’s mouth and gets a startled moan in return.

Essek pushes forward, half-rising onto his knees to get closer. His notes shift, falling to the floor in a scatter of paper as loud as a thunderclap in the quiet. He jumps, pulling out of the kiss, and laughs as he glances at the mess.

“Is this okay?” Caleb asks, his hand slipping from Essek’s face down to his chest. His fingers clench there, thumb rubbing at the light silk of his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about this a long time.” Essek cups his cheek, thumb running across the seam of Caleb’s lips. “Okay doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“Oh,” Caleb says, and before he can string together any actual words, Essek is kissing him again. He gives in, opening his mouth and letting Essek deepen the kiss with his tongue. Caleb hollows his cheeks, sucking lightly, trying to find out what he tastes like underneath the chocolate. Essek’s lips vibrate against his in a low moan.

The passage of time fades from minutes into the shift of song-to-song. The rest of the world vanishes, leaving only Caleb, Essek, and the couch holding them up. They kiss until Caleb is trembling with the force of it, until both their lips are swollen. Caleb wonders if he could write his dissertation on this, the mechanics pulling the two of them together.

Essek breaks out of the kiss with a sharp intake of breath and falls backward onto the couch with a laugh. He grabs Caleb’s collar, dragging him down with him. They tumble onto the couch in a tangle of awkward limbs and it takes them a moment to sort themselves out with a minimum of elbowing each other in the chest.

“This is scratchier than I imagined,” Essek murmurs, running his fingers along Caleb’s scruff of a beard. His lips are swollen dark blue and his breaths come quickly through parted lips. “I thought it would be soft.”

“I can shave, if you—”

“No.” Essek presses his thumb to Caleb’s mouth, silencing him. “If you want to, I won’t protest, but I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“You like it, don’t you?” Caleb nuzzles his cheek into the palm of Essek’s hand.

Essek chuckles, drawing closer until their lips are only a hair’s breadth apart. “Yes, Caleb. I like it.”

Caleb reaches down, pulling the afghan up around their waists. Their next kiss is warm and lazy, more trading breaths than anything else. Caleb’s hand finds its way into Essek’s hair and it really is as soft as he’s always imagined.

“We should go to bed,” Caleb says, pressing kisses down the sharp line of Essek’s jaw, shaking as he tries to suppress a yawn.

“Should we?” Essek’s hand lands on Caleb’s hip and presses up beneath his shirt. “I don’t have anywhere to go tomorrow, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Caleb says, and the thought of staying here, kissing Essek, until dawn sends a shiver down his spine.

“Unless you’re asking if you can take me to bed,” Essek’s hand slides down to the very base of his spine, “then we should _definitely_ go to bed.”

“I’m not ready for that tonight.” Caleb waits a moment, bracing for Essek to push him away, but he only nods. His hand moves up to safer territory but his grip tightens. “And my bed isn’t really big enough for two people.”

“Yes, Caleb, I have the exact same bed. I hope you don’t mind if we just keep doing this.” Essek leans in for another kiss, and Caleb doesn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost control of my life with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra references in this chapter and I’m not sorry. 
> 
> The Lost Christmas Eve is a TSO album and I did listen to it multiple times during the writing and revision of this chapter. 
> 
> The lyrics playing when Essek comes over to Caleb’s apartment are from “What Child Is This?” also known as my favorite TSO song of all time. I could listen to it on repeat for hours (and I have). 
> 
> “Wizards in Winter” and “Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24” are arguably TSO’s most well-known songs. They’re both instrumentals and if you’ve ever listened to Christmas music on the radio, you’ve probably heard at least one. 
> 
> The lyrics playing when Essek and Caleb are talking about the book are from “Christmas Dreams” and when they kiss are “This Christmas Day.” 
> 
> The only song mentioned that is not TSO’s is “All I Want for Christmas is You.” I’m partial to the Mariah Carey original.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! May 2021 put out the raging dumpster-fire that was 2020. 
> 
> CW: Consistent with Caleb's backstory. More details in the end notes.

Caleb wakes in the morning to Essek’s warmth pressed against the line of his back. He’s so close to the edge of the couch that one wrong move will send him toppling. His saving grace seems to be Essek’s arm wrapped around his stomach and Essek’s leg hooked over both of his. The only downside is the sun shining directly through the window and into his eyes.

Caleb groans, wanting nothing more than to roll over and press his face into Essek’s shirt, but he desperately needs to use the bathroom. He doesn’t climb out of Essek’s embrace so much as let himself slide off the couch and onto the floor. Essek doesn’t wake, his eyes still closed and his breathing sleep-steady. His hair fans in front of his face and his eyelashes twitch.

_This is real,_ Caleb reminds himself, as he heads to the bathroom. He tries not to glance in the mirror as he washes his hands but he can’t help himself. His long red hair is a tangled mess, his lips are still cherry-red, and there’s at least two semi-circle love bites left behind on his throat. He pushes down on one of them until it aches. _This is real._

By the time he returns to the living room, Essek is sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His hair is tousled, both by sleep and Caleb’s insistence on running his hands through it. Caleb refuses to blink, wanting to commit every detail to his memory.

He hopes it isn’t the last time. His anxiety spikes through him at the thought. What if Essek doesn’t feel the same way in the light of day as he had last night? What if everything gets awkward between them? What if this doesn’t work out? What if Essek grows bored of him?

“You should come to my apartment,” Essek says, and it takes Caleb a minute to realize that those words are not _We need to talk_ or _Last night was a mistake_. “I can make you breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there in half an hour?”

“Sounds perfect.” Essek gathers up his things and then hesitates before he crosses the threshold from living room to kitchen. He glances back at Caleb, a question in his eyes.

The answer is easy. Caleb huffs as a breath as he crosses the distance between them and presses a kiss to Essek’s lips. The metal spirals of his notebooks press into Caleb’s chest until he leans away again. “Don’t forget to find me that paper on the Green-Schwartz action functional.”

“Of course I’m not going to forget,” Essek scoffs and, with a smile that Caleb might describe as fond, he leaves. Caleb allows himself a few moments of anxiety in his empty apartment before he shoves himself into a shower that’s too hot.

He shaves and then immediately panics because Essek likes the feel of his beard stubble, he’d said as much last night— _Yes, Caleb, I like it_ —and what if he doesn’t want to kiss him now that he’s clean-shaven. He’s being ridiculous, he knows he is, but he grabs his phone. Beau picks up on the first ring, answering with a long groan in place of a hello.

“It’s Caleb.”

“Yes, I know.” Beau groans again. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Caleb doesn’t but he really isn’t sure that’s important right now. The sun’s up, at the very least. “I kissed Essek.”

He hears Yasha’s sleep-rough voice in the background saying, “What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine, hun, Caleb just has a crush. Go back to sleep,” Beau says, her voice quiet and distant. When she returns, it’s to say, “Good for you. What does this have to do with me?”

“What if he thinks it’s a mistake? What if it _was_ a mistake? What if it was just a kiss and he doesn’t feel the same way about me that I feel about him? What if he finds out what happened to my family and he hates me?” Caleb stops, then, his breath coming too fast to keep rambling.

“Whoa, whoa there, Widogast. Why don’t you start with telling me what happened?”

The words spill out of him—Essek coming over and _I don_ _’t want to intrude on your Christmas_ and talking until the middle of the night and asking Essek to stay and _Go on, kiss me._ “We kissed again this morning and he’s making me breakfast right now but what if—”

“Caleb,” Beau’s voice is firm as she cuts him off, “I don’t think he thinks it was a mistake and he clearly feels the same way about you. Have you ever made breakfast for someone you only had one night with?”

“I’ve never—”

“Bad example. Okay, I can assure you that _I_ _’ve_ never invited a one-night stand back to my apartment for breakfast.”

Caleb lets out a long, slow breath. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right. Now, why are you talking to me when you could be letting breakfast get cold while you make out with your new boyfriend?”

“One more thing: If he said he likes my beard, was it a mistake to shave before I see him again?” Caleb runs a hand over his smooth chin.

“I’m hanging up now. Don’t wake me up again,” Beau says, and does. Caleb sighs, leaning against the bathroom counter. It’s only breakfast. Surely he can survive breakfast with the man he’s been spending all his time with for over a week.

He finishes getting dressed, gathers up his work like it’s any other day, and walks down to Essek’s door. He pauses, wondering if he should bother with knocking or just walk right in. In the end, he settles for walking inside to find Essek frantically wiping down the counters with a paper towel.

“You know I’ve seen your apartment before,” Caleb says dryly. “You don’t have to clean.”

“I—” Essek drops the paper towels into the trash. “I thought I would tidy up a bit.”

Caleb drops himself onto a stool behind the breakfast bar and places his notes in front of him. “So what’s for breakfast?”

“How do you feel about crepes?”

“I like crepes.”

Essek grabs a spatula from the drawer and points at his laptop on the counter. “The paper I mentioned is open. Relax and I’ll see what I can do.”

It isn’t long before Essek has a small mountain of crepes—peaches, berries, chocolate, banana cream—and his arms are dusted to the elbows with powdered sugar. He sets the platter on the breakfast bar and climbs up on a second stool. “Anything interesting in that paper?” he asks.

Caleb can feel himself blush as he picks three crepes from the platter at random. He’s barely made it past the abstract, distracted by Essek’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his calm confidence while he cooked, the stray sugar stuck to the corner of his mouth. “The ideas they propose are a turning point for science.”

“You haven’t read it, have you?” There’s a tease in Essek’s voice as he takes three crepes of his own, his knee bumping against Caleb’s thigh.

“Not a word.” Caleb reaches out, wiping the sugar away from Essek’s mouth with his thumb. “I might’ve been distracted.”

“Distracted?” Essek picks up his fork and begins to cut his crepes into bite-sized pieces, without tasting any of them. “Distracted by me?”

Caleb’s mouth twists into an echo of Essek’s teasing smile. “I can’t imagine why.”

“I promise, no more distractions. I really want to hear your thoughts on their methodology.”

Caleb tries to focus, and Essek only distracts him a little, knee bumping against his thigh every once in a while. He relaxes as they talk about the paper and polish off the entire platter of crepes before relocating from the breakfast bar to the living room where there’s more space to spread out their work.

“Essek?” Caleb says, waiting at his spot in front of the loveseat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Is this what you’re about to ask for?” Essek asks. When Caleb turns around, he’s standing directly behind him, tipping his chin up with one finger, leaning in for a kiss. It’s soft and lingering, filling Caleb with warmth from his head to his toes. It tastes like powdered sugar and tart berries, new beginnings not endings.

“Not exactly,” Caleb says, when they come apart, “but I think it answers it anyway.”

“You should know by now, Caleb Widogast,” Essek says, his fingers digging into Caleb’s hips, “that I don’t do _anything_ casually.”

“Oh,” Caleb says and it’s all he has time to get out before he’s being kissed again. It’s only natural when they have to pause for breath to move to the couch. Caleb’s almost light-headed with it all, so when Essek places a hand on his chest and pushes him back, he doesn’t resist at all. He only has a moment to register that he’s sitting on the couch now before Essek is joining him, straddling his waist, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses down the line of his throat.

“I guess this means you’re not disappointed I shaved,” Caleb murmurs. He isn’t even sure he’s spoken out loud until Essek responds.

“I’m a little disappointed.” Essek nips down on the line of his jaw. “But it can grow back and this has its own upsides.”

“I’m glad you don’t only like me for my beard.” A moan bubbles in Caleb’s throat as Essek worries his skin between his teeth. That’s definitely going to leave a mark.

“I like _you_ , Caleb,” Essek says, and the sincerity in his voice sends a lightning bolt through Caleb’s chest. He brushes a kiss against the mark on Caleb’s throat and sits up on his lap, hands resting on his own thighs. “Now, what were you saying about the gauge anomaly?”

Caleb huffs out a laugh and just like that Essek is climbing off him to go in search for another research paper tucked into one of his many binders. Caleb brushes two fingers over the fresh mark on his neck before he pulls his notes into his lap. “I think you’re looking at it all wrong—”

***

Caleb’s phone buzzes against the bathroom counter. He glances at it quickly, tearing his eyes away from the dark smudges along his throat, some of them very visible, some of them semi-hidden beneath the growing stubble along his chin.

There are two more messages in quick succession and worry spikes through him. He picks it up but there’s nothing from Veth, nothing in the group text.

It’s Molly.

Molly: “I heard something funny yesterday from Beau”

Molly: “Tell me”

Molly: “Do you or do you not HAVE A BOYFRIEND?”

Caleb: “Why aren’t you feeding grapes to Italian models right now?”

Molly: “YOU DO. YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND.”

Caleb: “I didn’t say that.”

Molly: “SO YOU’RE NOT DATING ESSEK THELYSS? ARE YOU SUGGESTING BEAU LIED TO ME?”

Caleb: “Please stop shouting.”

Molly: “I just wanted to know why you haven’t said anything. I told you everything about Alexis, and Oswald, and Lunete, and Viktoria, and Dean, and Amber, and Adrien…”

Caleb: “First of all I didn’t ask you to tell me about all of your sexual adventures.”

Molly: “I’m hurt, Caleb. I thought we were close.”

Caleb: “Second of all when there’s something to say, you’ll be the first to know.”

Caleb sighs as he pushes his phone away. It buzzes again but he ignores it. It won’t take long for Molly to get bored and find someone else to entertain him. He’s not sure why he hasn’t texted the group to tell them that he and Essek actually _are_ dating after all. Maybe it’s because they still haven’t had an actual conversation about it beyond _I don_ _’t do anything casually_ or the fact that he finally has something that’s his and he wants to hold onto that for as long as he can.

It’s been nice, the past few days. They still spend most of their waking hours working on their research and reading their future textbooks, but side-by-side where they can touch and kiss as much as they like.

He’ll share the news with his friends, he will.

Just not yet.

***

Caleb wakes choking on the smoke clouding his lungs. He takes one shuddering breath and then another. The heat and screaming and panic fade from a tidal wave to a dull roar. It’s a nightmare that he’s had many, many times but he never remembers more than those lingering sensations when he wakes up.

His cheeks are wet. He clenches his eyes shut and turns his face into the arm of the couch to smother the sound of his sobs. He can feel Essek’s weight behind him, the warmth of his arm around his waist, but he doesn’t want to wake him, doesn’t want to explain—

“Are you okay?” Essek asks, running his fingers through Caleb’s hair.

“Nightmare.” Caleb struggles to piece himself together, to push the tears away, but the harder he tries, the more the smoke aches in his chest. He clenches his fists until he remembers how the burns felt. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not.” Essek curls around him, holding him tightly with both arms. One hand splays over his heart. He doesn’t speak, just breathes soft and slow and deep against the back of Caleb’s neck, until Caleb’s own lungs begin to match the rhythm.

The words spill out without Caleb meaning them to.

“It was my parents. They died, when I was sixteen,” he says. “House fire. I still have nightmares about it all the time. It was—it was my fault. I put something in the oven while I was studying and I just got lost in my books. I fell asleep and the oven caught fire. They told me later that it was faulty wiring, that it could’ve happened anytime, but if I hadn’t fallen asleep, they would—”

He stops, the words choking in his throat. _They would still be alive._ He twists around, pushing his face against Essek’s shoulder. Fresh tears force their way out. He doesn’t know how to say the rest of the story—his stay in the hospital with third-degree burns, the news that both of his parents were dead ( _smoke inhalation_ , they’d said, _dead before the fire reached them_ even though Caleb can hear his mother’s screams in his nightmares), living with his teacher Ikithon because he’d had no one else.

“Caleb,” Essek says, softly, and holds him tighter. He doesn’t try to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, or that he shouldn’t blame himself, or that it was an accident, or any number of the hundreds of things people and therapists and friends have told Caleb over the years, things that he’s tried so hard and failed to believe. He just wraps his arms around Caleb’s torso, kisses his hair, and lets him cry himself out.

It’s almost an hour later before Caleb’s able to pull himself off the couch. His eyes are red and swollen, and he can’t breathe through his nose. He stretches, shoulder popping, afraid to look back at Essek. He doesn’t want to see the disgust or pity there.

“Do you want me to leave?” Essek asks, as his own feet land on the floor.

“No,” Caleb says, too quickly. He turns around but all he sees on Essek’s face is a softness that hasn’t been there before. Not pity but grief. Caleb wants to kiss him all over again but he doesn’t. There are still tears drying on his face. “It’s okay, if you want to leave. I’m sure you want to shower and change too.”

“I’ll wait,” Essek says, settling back down on the couch and reaching over the arm for a book abandoned on the floor. “You shower and then we can go to my place.”

Caleb tries not to examine the relief that sweeps over him too closely. He imagines taking Essek by the hand, leaving each others’ clothing in a trail down the hallway, water coursing down Essek’s lean body. He wants it, all of it, but his chest is still raw with grief and it doesn’t feel right. “Thank you,” Caleb says, and goes to shower alone.

***

The New Year’s Eve ball-drop is turned down low on the TV. It’s more background noise than anything with Caleb and Essek too busy discussing the physics of dropping an actual ball at that rate to pay attention to the show.

“How did anyone even come up with this?” Essek demands, waving a champagne glass filled with sparkling grape juice. “Listening to that one guy speak is more exciting than the ball drop.”

“Ryan Seacrest?”

“Sure, if you say so.”

“What about this?” Caleb asks, taking Essek’s glass away and straddling his lap. “Is this more entertaining for you?”

“That depends.” Essek’s hands land on his sides, long fingers spanning his hips. “Are you going to start reciting the laws of physics?”

“Kinky.” Caleb grins as he leans down and nips Essek’s ear. “Ohm’s law states that the current through a conductor between two points is directly proportional to the voltage across two points.”

“I am definitely more entertained by you than Bryan Lakeshore.” Essek’s breath hitches as Caleb presses open-mouthed kisses down his jaw. “Always.”

“Newton’s third law states that for every action in nature there is an equal and opposite reaction.” Caleb bites down, harder than he would usually dare, and is rewarded with a strangled moan from Essek’s throat.

Essek’s hand finds the back of Caleb’s neck, his fingers tangling in the hair at the base of it. He pulls, guiding Caleb’s mouth to his. The kiss that follows is sloppy and uncoordinated, the angle all wrong, but neither of them seem to mind. Caleb can feel the flex of Essek’s thighs beneath his own and he wants to feel them on top of him, _around_ him.

He wants, and he isn’t interested in waiting any more.

Essek tugs Caleb’s bottom lip between his teeth and Caleb has to break away for a breath. His lip stings but Essek’s hands are a gentle counterpoint against his sides, thumbs pushing up beneath the hem of his shirt.

“I’ve wanted to touch you ever since I walked into that laundry room,” Essek says, like a confession.

“Only since then?” Caleb says on a laugh.

“Like this?” Essek’s fingers press into his skin. “Yes.”

Caleb reaches down, finding Essek’s wrists and pushing them upward beneath his shirt. “Then I’d hate to disappoint you.”

Essek’s lips are gentle as Caleb returns for another kiss, his hands equally so. There’s no urgency to the way he explores the points of Caleb’s back, the smooth expanse of his chest. His fingers trace the bumps of his spine and the lines of his ribs like he’s sketching out an equation. Caleb’s never been touched like this—like he’s something _precious_ —and his heart threatens to explode out of his chest from the sweetness of it.

“May I?” Essek asks, tugging on Caleb’s shirt where it’s rucked up under his arms.

“Only if I can do the same.” Caleb raises his arms over his head. “ _Equal and opposite reaction_ and all that.”

“Of course.” Essek pulls Caleb’s shirt over his head and then sits up so he can do the same. Caleb exhales as he runs his fingers down Essek’s bare chest. His skin is soft and smooth, the muscles more defined than Caleb expected.

Their next kiss, with Essek’s fingers spanning his shoulder blades, is searing hot. When Caleb pulls away to catch his breath, Essek fists a hand in his hair, holding him in place to bite the way down his neck. Caleb runs his hands down Essek’s chest, fingertips catching on his nipples, and Essek makes a breathy moan against his skin.

“How did I get so lucky?” Essek murmurs, so quiet that Caleb isn’t sure he was meant to hear it at all until Essek looks up to meet his gaze, pupils blown black.

“How did I?” Caleb whispers, capturing Essek’s mouth in another long, deep kiss. His hips grind forward in light touches and Essek’s hands slide to the pockets of his jeans, urging him on. Caleb gasps, pulling out of the kiss, as heat races up his spine.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom?” Essek asks, their foreheads pressed together as Caleb continues to roll his hips down against his lap.

“ _Fuck_.” Caleb lets out a whine, scratching his nails lightly down Essek’s upper arms. “Yes.”

“Hold on,” Essek says, and it’s all the warning Caleb has before the drow is tightening his grip on his thighs and standing up. Caleb yelps, hurrying to brace his arms around Essek’s shoulders. There’s only one open bedroom door and Essek makes his way toward it without asking and sets Caleb on the edge of the bed.

“Are you sure about this?” Essek asks, as Caleb falls back onto the pillow. He can’t tear his eyes away from Essek’s gaze as he reaches down and thumbs open the button of his jeans, the steady thud of his adam’s apple as he pulls down the zipper.

“I’m sure.” Caleb pushes his hips up, grabbing his waistband. “Is this—is this not what you had in mind?”

Essek moans so low in his throat it comes out like a growl. He tucks his fingers through Caleb’s belt loops and pulls. “This is exactly what I had in mind.”

Goosebumps rise on Caleb’s skin, bare to the cool air. Essek stares, his eyes drinking in every inch. Caleb holds still, wishing he could do the same, until the self-consciousness begins to set in. His muscles tense, his hands twitching to cover himself.

“Don’t,” Essek says, resting a hand on Caleb’s thigh to stop them from curling in. “You’re gorgeous.”

Caleb’s cheeks burn as he waves a hand at Essek’s jeans. “I think it’s my turn to stare.”

Essek doesn’t waste any time flicking open the button and pushing his jeans and briefs to the floor. He steps out of them and climbs onto the bed before Caleb has had enough time to take him in properly.

“Caleb,” Essek murmurs, and it feels like there’s more he wants to say, but instead he settles himself between Caleb’s thighs and presses the full length of their bodies together. Caleb groans at the warmth of skin on skin, Essek’s weight pressing him down into the mattress.

Caleb feels drunk as Essek grinds lightly against him, kissing his lips, his chin, his throat, his collarbone. It’s not enough, not anywhere _close_ , but it makes his skin prickle with heat. He runs his hands down Essek’s back, feeling the steady flex of muscle in his shoulders.

It’s almost academic, the way Essek kisses and touches and moves, experimenting to find out what Caleb likes and repeating the ones that make him moan the loudest. He chuckles when he brushes his fingers down the cleft of Caleb’s ass and his whole body shudders.

“You don’t have to worry about being quiet,” Essek says, pressing the flat of his tongue to one nipple. “There’s no one else here.”

“ _Fuck,_ _”_ Caleb hisses between his teeth and he can feel the sticky drops of pre-come against his own stomach. He isn’t sure which one of them it belongs to and the thought only makes him cry out louder when Essek tugs on his nipple with his teeth.

“What do you want?” Essek asks, arching his back as he places open-mouthed kisses down Caleb’s chest to his ribs. “Anything. I’ll do it.”

Caleb whimpers, running his hand up the inside of Essek’s thigh. He wraps his hand around the base of his cock and strokes, marveling at the way Essek’s breath stutters against his skin. “Just like this. I want you. On me.”

Essek groans and sits up on his knees, wrapping his hand around Caleb’s. His hips roll with the movements of their intertwined hands. Caleb props himself up on one elbow, wanting—needing—a better look. Essek’s eyes flutter closed and his lips part around a litany of gasps and moans. When Caleb swipes his thumb over the head of Essek’s cock, he lets out a hiss of a “ _Yes._ _”_

He looks almost ethereal in the faint yellow glow of the street lights coming through the windows. He wants to trace the shadows left behind with his fingertips, his tongue. He wants to watch Essek come again, and again, and again until it’s seared so deeply into his memory, it’s the only thing he can recall.

“Tighter,” Essek groans, his grip closing around Caleb’s hand. Caleb tries to quicken the pace but Essek’s hips jutter and his hand slows them back down again, to strokes that are slow and luxurious. “Like this. Fuck. So close.”

“I want to see it,” Caleb says, wishing they’d thought to turn a light on. He doesn’t want to miss a single detail. The flutter of his eyelashes. The flex of his thighs. The dark blue head of his cock and the pre-come dripping onto Caleb’s stomach. “Essek, please.”

“ _Caleb_ ,” Essek moans. His back arches as he comes, white splattering across Caleb’s skin. He pants for breath, hand sliding free and landing on the bed to hold himself up. His eyes when he manages to look up and meet Caleb’s stunned gaze are glinting. “Your turn.”

“I—” Caleb doesn’t have time to get the words out, isn’t entirely sure what words they’ll be. He’s so hard it hurts and all he knows is that he wants Essek’s hand on him, that he won’t last long at all but he doesn’t care.

Essek pushes himself back on the bed and Caleb only has a second to register what’s about to happen before his cock is being swallowed down. “Fuck!” Caleb shouts, falling backward onto the pillow, hands clawing at his covers. Essek’s mouth is warm and perfect, and his tongue is pressing against the underside of his cock like Caleb had given him a map.

Essek moans and Caleb swears he can feel the vibration of it all the way up his spine. He hollows his cheeks and sucks. Caleb doesn’t have time to warn him, but Essek doesn’t pull away, sealing his lips around the head and swallowing down every last drop.

Caleb laughs as he catches his breath. He knows it won’t be long before they get uncomfortable, his skin already too cool and too sticky, but right now he feels like he may never move from the mattress again. Essek wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles at him.

“How did I get so lucky?” Caleb asks, grabbing Essek by the wrist and dragging him down into a kiss. He chases the taste of himself on Essek’s tongue and feels the man laugh against his mouth.

Somewhere in the distance, fireworks pop and crackle. Essek pulls away first, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s forehead. “Happy New Year, Caleb.”

For once, Caleb thinks it might be. “Happy New Year, Essek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings:   
> \- Nightmares   
> \- Caleb's parents died in a house fire due to faulty wiring. It was an accident but he shoulders the blame.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critical Role is back tonight! 
> 
> A note before we begin: You might've noticed that the chapter count for this fic went up again. My original intent was to post the last chapter on the 10th, but then the first draft turned out to be twice as long as I expected. And then January 6th happened. In the interest of posting today, in honor of CR's return date, I decided to split the chapter in two. The seventh chapter will be the last (no, really, I promise this time). I hope you enjoy!

Early morning sun fills Caleb’s room and he curses himself for forgetting to close the blinds. He’s curled up almost in a ball, his back aching from the cramped position. He tries to stretch, eyes still closed against the light, and nearly topples over the edge of the bed. Arms tighten around his chest and pull him closer with a sleepy grumble.

“Why are these beds so small?” Caleb mutters, wiggling away from the edge and into Essek’s embrace.

“Probably to discourage us from doing this.” Essek presses his body to Caleb’s from chest to thighs, hardening cock resting in the crease of Caleb’s ass.

“Eager this early in the morning, are you?” Caleb rolls his hips back as Essek’s hand inches lower and lower on his bare stomach.

“I can’t think of any better way to start the year.” Essek’s fingers circle around the base of his cock and squeeze lightly. “Can you?”

Caleb groans, reaching for something to grab onto but he’s pinned precariously between Essek’s body and the edge of the bed. His hand finds Essek’s neck and holds him closer. “No complaints here.”

“Good.” Essek grabs hold of his hips, pressing Caleb’s thighs close together when he tries to open them. “I want you like this. Don’t move.”

Caleb moans as he hears the click of the lube bottle behind him. He holds still as Essek slides his cock between his thighs and stutters out a sigh against the back of his neck. Balanced on his side, Caleb doesn’t have the leverage to grind back. He can’t do anything but cling to Essek’s neck and shoulder with one hand, to lay there and take it.

“Fuck,” Essek hisses, his hips rolling in a way that makes Caleb’s entire body heat with anticipation. Their skin slaps together, Essek’s hand fanned against Caleb’s stomach to hold him in place.

Caleb rolls his head back against the pillow, barring his throat, and lets out a breathy moan. He knows there’s condoms around here somewhere, can already imagine Essek opening him up with his fingers and pushing into him. Pre-come beads at the head of his cock and he can feel Essek’s mouth curve into a grin against the side of his neck.

“What are you thinking about?” Essek asks, his voice low and husky.

“You,” Caleb groans into one particularly hard thrust. “How good this feels.”

“Is that all?” Essek’s hand slides down, thumb playing lightly with the soft skin beneath Caleb’s cock.

“No.” Caleb reaches for his own cock with his free hand but Essek slaps it away. He whimpers, grip landing on the bed-frame instead. “I was wondering where my condoms are because I want you to fuck me.”

“Patience,” Essek says, and his bite on the back of Caleb’s neck is sharper than usual. “We’ll get there.”

Caleb isn’t sure that’s true, with Essek lazily rolling his balls against his fingers. The thrust of his hips slows to a gentle wave, like they have all the time in the world for a lazy fuck. He wonders if could see the head of Essek’s cock pressing between his thighs, if he were to pull the blankets aside and look down. The thought alone sends another wave of sparks rolling down his spine.

Essek’s hand slides up Caleb’s stomach and lands on his chest. His thumb circles around one nipple and then the other before tugging it lightly between two fingers.

“Could you come just like this, I wonder,” Essek says, in the same voice he uses to discuss Einstein’s theory of relativity. He toys with one nipple, tugging at random, watching it pebble beneath his touch. Caleb whimpers, oversensitive, and Essek switches, repeating the process with the other one. “I bet you could. You’re so responsive, look at you.”

Caleb clenches his eyes shut, back arching. The crown of Essek’s cock ruts up against his balls, slick and hot. “Please,” Caleb breathes. “Please, I need—”

“I know.” Essek tugs his ear between his teeth. “Another time, perhaps.”

Caleb almost cries with relief as Essek’s hand makes its way back down his body, too slowly but at least heading in the direction he wants it most. All the air punches out of his lungs as Essek wraps a hand around his cock and strokes at the same moment his hips thrust forward. “Yes, yes, _yes_.”

“I have you,” Essek says, as his grip tightens. The calm laziness vanishes, replaced by the slap of Essek’s hips against Caleb’s, the slick sound of Essek’s hand on his cock, and the heavy panting of their breathing.

Caleb’s hands reach for something to grab on to, one scrabbling for purchase against Essek’s shoulder, but there’s nothing but bed-frame and smooth skin. He’s close, so close, but he needs— “More,” Caleb gasps. “Come for me, Essek. I want to feel it. I want to feel you.”

Essek shudders, losing his rhythm for a moment. He thrusts once, twice, and stills, groaning into Caleb’s shoulder. Come spills between them, sticky and hot against Caleb’s skin. Essek’s hand lets go of his cock, wrapping around Caleb’s torso to hold him tighter, but it doesn’t matter. Caleb’s orgasm crashes over him like a wave, come splattering against his chest and bed. There might even be some on the floor, if he could be bothered to check.

Caleb huffs a laugh once he’s caught his breath. “I don’t have any spare sheets,” he says, feigning anger. “I guess this means I’m going to have to do laundry today.”

“Or,” Essek drags a lazy finger through the mess on Caleb’s stomach, “I have a perfectly good bed that we could ruin.”

Caleb twists in Essek’s arms and is allowed to roll over onto his back at last. His skin feels tacky with come, sweat, and lube. He isn’t sure if the shiver that runs over him is from discomfort or the reminder of what they just did. Essek leans down into a lingering kiss, disregarding their morning breath.

When they pull away,” Caleb says, “Why don’t we consider our options in the shower?”

Essek smiles, fingers splaying across Caleb’s inner thigh. “I like the way you think.”

***

Essek scatters his notes across the laundry room table, layering them like some kind of elaborate cryptograph. Caleb stretches his legs out, bracing _Patterns of World History_ against the table’s edge. He’s only a few paragraphs in when Essek’s foot bumps his. He looks up, meeting Essek’s gaze.

“What?” he asks, when it happens again less than a page later.

“Nothing.” Essek smirks and heat runs down Caleb’s back as he remembers the shape of that mouth pressed against his bare skin. “We both have long legs. This isn’t a large table.”

“Sure.” Caleb returns his attention to his textbook, losing himself in the flow of history and the low rumble of the washer behind him. He makes it a few more chapters before Essek’s foot slides up the curve of his ankle.

“You know,” Essek says, his voice low and dark, “there’s no one else in this building.”

“There isn’t?” Caleb feigns a glance over his shoulder, through the glass window into the hallway. “I wondered why it was so quiet.”

“No one to walk in on us.” Essek scans the ceiling. “No cameras in here. We could do _anything_ and no one would be the wiser.”

Caleb’s cock twitches in his sweatpants but he ignores it. “What are you suggesting?”

“When I walked in on you in here, I thought about setting you on that washer right there.” Essek nods at the one currently rumbling with his sheets. I thought about kissing you until you couldn’t stand it anymore, and then dropping to my knees. The washer is the perfect height, don’t you think?”

“Might be a little tall,” Caleb says, his mouth dry. He presses his hand against the base of his cock, trying to will away the blood rapidly rushing south.

“We could test it,” Essek says, casually, like he’s suggesting they run a few equations and not that he wants to blow Caleb on top of a community washer. “If it doesn’t work out, I can bend you over this table instead.”

Caleb bites back a moan. “Essek—”

The washer buzzes and Caleb nearly jumps out of his skin. His sweatpants do nothing to hide his arousal as he gets up to move his sheets into the dryer.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it,” Essek says, draped over his chair, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s staring at the tent in Caleb’s pants. “There are so many things I want to do with you.”

“Like collaborate on this critical Ising model project?” Caleb says, even though he knows it’s a half-hearted attempt to bring the focus back around to their work. Essek is staring at him with dilated pupils and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Caleb estimates about three minutes before one of them will drag the other back to the privacy of an apartment.

“Is that really what you want to talk about?”

Caleb shrugs one shoulder, his answering smile equally coy. “It was worth a try.”

“What about you?” Essek tries to snag Caleb’s waistband as he returns to his chair but he steps smoothly out of the way. “What do you want, Caleb?”

“I thought I made that clear earlier.” Caleb raises his eyebrows at him, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I want you to fuck me.”

Essek swallows hard. “That’s it? No further detail?”

“I want you to fuck me _hard_.” Caleb pauses, drinking in the way Essek’s lips part and his eyes go hazy with desire, before he continues. “I want you to pin me to your bed so I can’t touch myself and then fuck me until I come from you alone.”

Essek stands, sending his chair crashing to the floor. He doesn’t move to right it, just braces his hands on the table. He’s wearing a pair of Caleb’s sweatpants and they hang dangerously low on his hips, doing absolutely nothing to disguise his arousal. Caleb waits patiently for him to find his voice but when he does all that comes out is, “We need lube.”

Caleb stands again, slow and sinuous, at complete odds with the rapid pounding of his heart. “Then I guess we’d better find some.”

Essek grabs him by the wrist and practically drags him from the laundry room. They half-run, half-stumble down the hallway to Essek’s door. Caleb’s cock aches with the movement but there’s nothing for it. He doesn’t want to wait.

Caleb crashes first through Essek’s—unlocked—door. He only has a moment to register the sight of his kitchen before he’s being shoved against the wall and thoroughly kissed. He gives into the onslaught, opening his mouth and letting Essek in.

There’s no finesse to it. Essek’s tongue is hot in his mouth, dominating and all-consuming. His hands push beneath Caleb’s sweats, bracketing his hips. It isn’t long before Caleb’s panting against Essek’s mouth more than actually participating.

“I don’t see any lube here, you know,” he gasps as Essek shoves one hand into his hair and pulls his head back to bare his throat. “Thought that was the whole point of coming here.”

Essek seals his lips against Caleb’s skin and sucks hard, leaving a dark bruise behind. He pulls away, brushes his thumb over it, and adds a second one beside it. His lips are parted and swollen as he checks his handiwork. “Gorgeous.”

Caleb opens his mouth to speak but only a moan comes out. Essek brushes a kiss over the corner of his mouth and grabs him by the hand. “Come with me.”

Clothing lands in a trail from the kitchen to Essek’s bedroom. Caleb stretches out on his back on the bed, lips parted, cheeks flushed, watching Essek slide open the drawer on his desk and pull out a bottle of lube. It looks brand new.

“Did you buy that just for me?” Caleb asks, anything to distract himself from the heat in Essek’s gaze as he pops open the cap and squeezes a healthy amount onto his fingers.

Essek only smirks as he sets the bottle aside and climbs onto the bed, settling himself between Caleb’s spread thighs. “You’ll let me know,” he says, confidence stuttering for a moment, “if you don’t like it?”

“I promise,” Caleb says, raising his hips to allow Essek to settle a pillow beneath them. Goosebumps rise on his skin from anticipation more than the cold.

Essek nods, sliding his clean hand up the inside of Caleb’s thigh. He fixes his eyes on Caleb’s face as he teases him with the tip of one finger. He draws tiny circles, barely offering enough pressure, and Caleb whines. His body twists and squirms but he doesn’t have the leverage to push down, to force Essek where he wants him.

“I’ve got you,” Essek whispers, as Caleb wonders if he’s above begging, and pushes inside. Caleb tenses at the intrusion, his body stretching to accommodate Essek’s finger. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as he feels knuckles press against his skin.

“Go on,” Caleb says, as Essek pauses to let him adjust. “You can move.”

Essek meets and holds his gaze as he pulls out and pushes back in, equally slow. Caleb tries not to shiver as Essek takes his time, moving from one finger to two without speeding up the pace one bit, as the discomfort fades away into pleasure. Caleb raises his head up and regrets it, his cock twitching at the sight of Essek sitting between his legs, watching the way his fingers disappear into Caleb’s body with wide eyes and parted lips.

Essek scissors them and Caleb’s hips buck up with a shout. He’s still catching his breath when Essek crooks his fingers inside of him, sending a bolt of lightning up his spine.

Right there,” he gasps, fisting the blankets in his hands, wishing he could hold Essek instead. “Right there.”

“Here?” Essek asks, his voice rougher than usual. He crooks his fingers again, massaging the spot, and Caleb yelps. “Fuck, you look incredible like this.”

“Would look even better with you inside me.” Caleb’s voice rises an octave as Essek pushes a third finger inside of him.

Essek makes a considering sort of hum. “If I made you come just like this, how long would it take before you’d be able to do it again?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb growls. “We can try that _next time_.”

“Next time, huh?” Essek thumbs the head of Caleb’s cock with his free hand, collecting the pre-come there before he sucks it into his mouth. Caleb moans at the sight. “We’d probably best start keeping a list.”

“You’re going to kill me.” Caleb’s head flops back against the pillow. His hips buck upward, trying to increase the pace of Essek’s fingers, to no avail. He keeps the pace slow and almost gentle, like Caleb might break.

Essek withdraws and Caleb holds his breath, waiting for them to be replaced by the blunt head of a cock. There’s nothing but the cool air against his overheated skin. He lifts his head to find Essek covering his fingers with lube again before pushing all three back inside.

“I’m ready,” Caleb says, meaning for it to sound demanding but it comes out too quiet and reassuring. “Please, Essek.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Essek rubs the inside of Caleb’s thigh in soothing circles with his free hand.

“You won’t.” Caleb pushes himself up on his elbows, arms shaking. He wants nothing more than to grab the drow by the back of his neck and pull him down on top of him, but he’s too far away to reach. “I want you.”

“Okay.” Essek pulls out his fingers and wipes them on the bed before reaching for a condom. “Okay.”

Essek’s fingers shake as he opens the condom with his teeth and rolls it on. Caleb moans as he lowers himself back onto the bed. Essek slicks up his cock and crawls over Caleb, meeting him in a deep kiss.

Essek guides his cock into place and pushes inside. It’s only the head, barely anything, but Caleb gasps, arching his neck as he breaks out of the kiss. Curses in German and English fall from his lips unnoticed as Essek moves inch-by-torturous-inch. Even with all the preparation, he can feel himself stretching around the thicker base of Essek’s cock, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Essek,” he breathes, as he bottoms out.

“Are you okay?” Essek reaches up, pushing Caleb’s hair out of his face in a touch so tender that Caleb might melt with the warmth of it.

Caleb laughs, high and breathy. “Am I—Yes. I’m great.”

“Good.” Essek’s smile goes sharp-edged and wicked at the corners and Caleb’s body quivers in anticipation. Essek braces himself on his knees, freeing his hands to pin Caleb’s arms above his head. “I seem to recall something about you wanting to be fucked hard.”

“ _Yes_.” Caleb moans as Essek pulls almost all the way out and snaps his hips forward, shoving the breath from his body. Essek’s back and thighs flex as he fucks into him, hard and fast, without a pause for him to find his bearings. Caleb tugs his arms against Essek’s grip and is held fast. He brings his legs up instead, hooking his ankles around Essek’s hips, and holds on for dear life. The new angle sends Essek’s cock rutting against his prostate and he shudders with the force of it.

Essek’s face looms above him, lips swollen, pupils dilated, eyes glazed over with pleasure. Sweat beads along his throat and collarbone, drawing lines over his shoulders and chest. Even his arms flex with the force of his movements.

Caleb is so hard it hurts. His cock hangs neglected between them, the only friction against it coming when Essek leans down to bite at his throat. It’s delicious, giving up control like this, knowing that if he comes it’s only going to be because of Essek fucking into him with wild abandon.

“Go on, Caleb,” Essek says, his voice entirely wrecked. He changes the angle of his hips again until Caleb lets out a moan and shivers. “You wanted to come because of me. I wanted to see it. I _want_ to see it.”

“Can’t.” He can feel his orgasm coiling in his gut, tensing in his balls, but he’s not on the edge, needs more. “Not yet.”

“What do you need?” Essek leans down, dragging his teeth over Caleb’s collarbone.

“Harder.” Caleb tightens his thighs around Essek’s waist. “Please. Harder.”

“Like this?” Essek plants his hands on the bed, pulls back about halfway, and slams his hips forward in a short thrust. It’s so hard and deep that Caleb can almost feel it in his throat.

“Yes,” Caleb screams. “Again.”

Essek obeys, again and again, a growl rising from his throat. The bed squeaks in protest beneath them but they ignore it. Caleb’s muscles tighten and the skin beneath his thighs is slick with sweat. He needs more, wants to beg for Essek to touch him, but he bites down on his bottom lip.

Essek leans down, tugging his earlobe between his teeth. “You’re perfect for me.”

Caleb chokes on a moan as his orgasm crashes over him. Come spurts between them in long ropes, coating both their stomachs. He pants for breath as Essek’s rhythm stutters but continues fucking him through it.

“I can—” Essek’s voice is broken as he buries his face in the crook of Caleb’s neck. He pushes all the way inside, grinding his cock there in little circles of his hips. “I can—feel it—”

“Let go,” Caleb says, hands landing on Essek’s shoulders. Essek stills, all the muscles in his body tightening beneath Caleb’s touch as he comes. He doesn’t make a sound but his body shakes with the force of it. Caleb relaxes around him, stroking his back. Essek goes boneless, falling forward. Caleb doesn’t mind, likes the feeling of being held beneath Essek’s weight.

“Sorry,” Essek says, rolling off him as they catch their breath. He holds onto the base of the condom as he pulls out. Caleb lets out a groan of discomfort, wrinkling his nose.

“Don’t apologize,” Caleb pants, resting a hand on the back of Essek’s neck. “That was perfect.”

“Yes it was.” Essek leans forward into a lazy kiss, pressing the curve of his smile against Caleb’s mouth. He only pulls away when Caleb starts to shiver in a draft, the drying sweat and come on his skin sticky and cold. Essek rolls out of bed and returns with a warm cloth. Caleb holds out a hand but Essek ignores him, wiping him gently clean before tending to himself.

“My sheets are probably done,” Caleb says, anything to distract from the heat in his cheeks. He starts to climb out of bed but Essek grabs him by the wrist and drags him back down.

“I don’t remember saying I was done with you,” Essek growls in his ear, wrapping his arms and legs around him.

Caleb arches his head back as Essek licks a line up his throat. “Those are my only sheets and they’re just sitting in the dryer.”

“Who’s going to steal them?” Essek runs his lips down Caleb’s jawline, playing at the stubble growing there. “The ghost?”

“We’re going to need a clean bed, unless you want to sleep on the couch again.” Caleb gathers himself, pretending to try to break out of Essek’s grip.

Essek wrinkles his nose at the thought. “Are you going to sleep right now?”

“Well, no.”

“Good.” Essek trails his fingers down the crease of Caleb’s ass and he twitches, oversensitive. “I thought we might get started on that list.”


	7. Chapter 7

“All I’m saying is the evidence is theoretically there,” Caleb says, glancing at his phone as it lights up with a text from Veth. He swipes the screen open to a picture of a moonlit beach, green lights cast across the sky. There’s a dark figure sitting on the sand. He can only assume by the short wind-swept hair that it’s her husband Yeza. “Just because we haven’t invented the equipment yet to confirm the calculations doesn’t mean we should throw out the whole theory.”

“That’s not the problem,” Essek says, and even though it’s an argument they’ve had multiple times, he doesn’t sound irritated. “You can’t base an entire scientific theory on the idea that it might pan out someday.”

Caleb ignores him, holding up the phone to show him the picture. “Have you ever seen the Northern Lights?”

“No.” Essek glances from the phone to Caleb’s face. “I always find out about them the next morning.”

Caleb looks back down at his phone in time for another text to come in: “We’re down at Little Gelier. You should come.”

“We should go,” Caleb says, already climbing to his feet. “You can’t go to school here and never see the lights.”

It’s the middle of the night,” Essek protests, glancing out the window at the parking lot lit only by the streetlamps.

“So?” Caleb steps carefully over the combined scatter of their notes and offers Essek his hand. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Fine.” Essek’s mouth plays at a smile as he lets Caleb pull him to his feet. “How warmly do I need to dress?”

“As many layers as you can. We’re going to hike up Bearclaw.”

Essek stills, his entire body stiffening with hesitation. “It’s dark.”

“We have flashlights.” Caleb holds up his phone, ignoring the blue light alerting him to another message.

“There are bears that live here, Widogast.”

Caleb rolls his eyes, tugging Essek forward. “People do this all the time. Don’t you trust me?”

“All right.” Essek grumbles to himself as he heads for his bedroom. “But if we get eaten by bears, just think about what a terrible waste it’ll be for science.”

Caleb laughs as he heads for the door. “I promise not to deprive science of your brilliant mind. Meet me in ten minutes.”

Caleb changes into as many layers as he can take before he checks his phone again.

Veth: “Essek’s welcome too, if you’re joining us.”

Caleb: “Essek’s never seen the lights before so I’m taking him to the best seat in the house.”

Veth: “Be careful.”

Caleb: “Yes, Mom.”

Essek walks through the door as Caleb steps back into his kitchen. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Essek says under his breath as he leads Caleb outside to his Jeep. He looks almost disappointed when the engine turns over on the first attempt.

“Hey,” Caleb says, reaching across the center console to catch Essek’s hand as he shifts out of park. “If you’re really not okay with this, we don’t have to. We can go somewhere else.”

“I want to.” Essek draws his hand back to place it on the wheel as the car crunches through the snow out of the parking lot. “You’ve been around here a lot longer than I have. If you say it’s safe, I trust you.”

Caleb nods, staring out the window as strings of student houses pass by. It isn’t long before they pick up their earlier debate right where they left off, only dropping the subject again when Essek parks on the dirt lot at the trail-head.

“Here,” Essek says, reaching into the backseat and shoving a real heavy-duty flashlight into Caleb’s hands. “I don’t want you walking off the edge of a cliff because of your tiny phone light.”

“Such a romantic,” Caleb teases, but he clicks the flashlight on the moment he’s out of the car. The trees wave in a cold breeze off the lake, seeming to beckon them in. Essek joins him, carrying a smaller flashlight.

Even in the dark, the trail is large enough that it’s easy to follow and there’s little risk of them getting lost or walking over a cliff, regardless of what Essek says. There’s also no sign of bears or mountain lions or any other threat.

“People really do this?” Essek asks, eyes reflecting the glow of their flashlights. “Climb up this mountain in the middle of the night?”

“We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?”

Essek glowers at him. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s not encouraged,” Caleb says, carefully moving around a rock in the path, “but it’s not uncommon. If it were during the school year, we probably wouldn’t be the only ones up here.”

Essek switches his flashlight into his opposite hand and catches Caleb’s hand. “When was the first time that you saw the lights?”

Caleb swallows, waiting for the swell of grief to overwhelm him, but it doesn’t. There’s a lingering sadness that he’ll always carry with him but it doesn’t threaten to choke him from the inside. There’s something about the dark, Essek’s hand in his, only the tree branches above their heads that makes it easy for him to say the words.

“I was eleven. We’d gone to the cabin for spring break and my mom woke me up in the middle of the night. She told me to come with her—I thought something was wrong but she led me outside and pointed up at the sky. We were so far from any city that they were crystal clear, blue and purple lights reflecting against the lake. I don’t know how long we sat there, just the two of us.” He pauses, laughing. “Dad was so disappointed that we didn’t wake him up.”

“Did he ever get to see them?”

Caleb smiles softly into the trees. “The next night, he woke us both up. We caught them a handful of times together, but this is—”

“This is the first time you’ve seen the lights without them, isn’t it?” Essek asks, when Caleb can’t bring himself to say it.

Caleb nods, tightening his grip on Essek’s hand. The contact keeps him grounded, keeps his grief from sweeping him away. “Yes. Veth’s gone a few times, and Jester with Fjord, and Clay has this scary sense of when they’re going to show up, but I always make excuses.”

Essek looks over, meeting Caleb’s eyes. “Why now?”

“You’ve never seen them before.” Caleb tugs him in by the hand, bending down to brush their lips together in a kiss. “I don’t want you to miss this and—I want to be there for it.”

Essek brushes Caleb’s hair out of his eyes. “Then lead the way.”

It’s not an easy hike in the dark but the trail is wide and clear enough that they make it up the rest of the mountain without incident. Caleb keeps his eyes on the trees, examining the tiny pinpricks of animal eyes to make sure they’re too small to be dangerous.

“Look,” Caleb says, pointing ahead through the break in the trees at the hints of green light. He quickens his pace, flicking off his flashlight as they step onto the relative safety of the wooden outlook.

“Oh,” Essek says, turning off his own flashlight as he moves to the snow-covered railing. He doesn’t speak, just stares up at the Northern Lights with his lips parted.

The lights aren’t as clear as they were many years ago above a lake, but they’re perfectly visible, splashes of green across the night sky. Caleb spares them a brief glance—they are beautiful tonight—before his gaze lands on Essek, the open wonder on his face.

After a few minutes, Caleb says, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you struck speechless.”

“They’re beautiful,” Essek replies without looking away. He looks almost ethereal with his blue skin in the darkness, lights dancing in his eyes.

“Yes,” Caleb says, looking at Essek, “they are.”

They don’t say anything more as they stand side-by-side at the wooden railing, just staring up at the sky. The lights shimmer across the darkness, sometimes brighter than others, but always breath-taking. A cold wind blows in from across the lake, tossing a thick cloud of snow into the air, but Caleb hardly notices it. His skin feels too warm in the weight of this moment, the two of them standing on top of a mountain looking out at the Northern Lights.

“Essek,” Caleb says, his voice feeling far too loud even though it’s barely above a whisper, “is this our first date?”

Essek startles, his fingers clenching around Caleb’s gloved hand. “I’m not sure. What about Christmas? Or New Year’s? Or all those times I came over to study?”

“I’m not sure arguing over particle physics can be considered a date,” Caleb teases, pulling Essek a little closer.

“I’m not sure I can be your boyfriend in that case.” Essek turns to look at him and Caleb feels all the breath leave his lungs. He knows this means something, has known for a while, but neither of them has _said_ it. Essek’s smile slips away as he takes in Caleb’s stricken expression. “Unless—unless you don’t _want—_ ”

“I do,” Caleb blurts out, not wanting to hear another word of concern drop from Essek’s mouth. “We just haven’t, you know, talked about it.”

“I meant it, when I said I don’t do anything casually.” Essek turns away from the lights, pulling Caleb closer by the bottom of his coat. “Caleb Widogast, will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Caleb braces his hands against Essek’s coat, half-melting into his arms. “Does that make _this_ our anniversary?”

“I don’t care.” Essek’s eyes are half-hooded as he stares down at Caleb’s lips. “It can be whenever you want it to be. Tonight. New Year’s. Christmas. The day I walked in on you in the laundry room.”

Caleb ducks his head, laughing. “Christmas, then.”

“Okay.” Essek presses his fingers to Caleb’s chin, lifting his head until their eyes meet again. “Thank you, for insisting that I come all the way up here.”

“I’m glad it was worth it.” Caleb closes his eyes as Essek leans down into a kiss. The last thing he sees is the flashes of green reflected in Essek’s gaze.

***

“Let me,” Caleb says, when they’re back in the safety and warmth of Caleb’s apartment and Essek reaches for the buttons of his own peacoat. Caleb undoes them, one at a time, watching the quiver in Essek’s lips. He pushes the coat back and Essek lets his shoulders relax until it falls to the floor with a thud of fabric.

Caleb fists his hands in Essek’s sweater, pushing up on his toes into a kiss. It’s long and lingering, warmer than any cup of hot cocoa could be. He breaks away from it and grabs the hem of Essek’s sweater, pulling it over his head, before leaning back in.

He continues that way, exchanging each layer for a kiss, until his hands are free to sweep over the soft expanse of bare skin.

“My turn,” Essek says, stilling Caleb’s hands as he reaches for his briefs. “It’s only fair.”

Caleb doesn’t argue. He can feel a drop of sweat running down the length of his spine as the heat settles in and the many layers get to be too much. Essek strips him quickly, until there’s a pile of clothing surrounding them on Caleb’s kitchen floor, the two of them in the middle of it with only their briefs remaining.

Caleb tucks his fingers in Essek’s waistband, dragging him in close. He traces his tongue over Essek’s bottom lip, pushing inside when Essek opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Their tongues tangle together for only a moment before Caleb begins to thrust his in and out, a herald of everything he wants to do to Essek tonight. Essek moans, a shudder running through his whole body.

Caleb pulls away, flicking his tongue behind Essek’s teeth as he goes. “Come with me,” he says, a breath against Essek’s lips.

Caleb leads him to the bedroom and pushes him toward the bed until Essek gets the idea and climbs up, landing on his back. His short white hair fans against Caleb’s pillow. He shivers at the sound of the drawer scraping open as Caleb retrieves lube and a condom.

“I want to fuck you,” Caleb says, as he settles between Essek’s thighs. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Essek’s hand reaches for him, landing on his knee, the only part he can reach. “Please, Caleb. Yes.”

Caleb flicks open the lube with his thumb and coats his first two fingers. Essek flinches at the first touch, thigh muscles tightening, but nods when Caleb glances up to meet his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Essek says. “Cold.”

Caleb rubs his fingers together, warming it a bit, before he tries again. Essek lets out a long breath as Caleb pushes in the first finger, reveling at the heat of Essek’s body. He takes his time, opening Essek with one finger, then two. Pre-come beads from Essek’s cock and Caleb licks his lips.

“What are you doing?” Essek asks as Caleb slides lower on the bed, balancing himself at the end of it. He’s stuck in a crouch, and it’s not comfortable, but he’s exactly where he wants to be.

“Are you familiar with a surprise, Essek?”

“The concept, yes,” he says, a little more warily than Caleb would like to hear in bed. “I’m not fond of them.”

Caleb nuzzles the inside of his thigh. “I’m going to taste you. Do you have any objections?”

Essek whimpers as Caleb takes the base of his cock in his free hand and opens his mouth. “No objections here.”

Caleb runs his tongue from the base to the crown, gathering up the pre-come that’s dripping along his length. He rolls the taste in his mouth, finding it less bitter than he’d expected, more salty. Caleb takes the head into his mouth, tracing his tongue around the crown.

“That mouth of yours,” Essek rasps, hand landing in Caleb’s hair, locks tangling around his fingers. “I wondered what it would be like for you to put it to good use.”

Caleb would laugh but he’s too busy taking Essek’s length slowly into his mouth, trying to see how much he can take. He crooks his fingers to press against Essek’s prostate, making his hips shudder in between pushing back against his hand and pressing forward into his mouth. He pushes a third finger inside and earns a shout.

The combination of Essek’s body relaxing around his fingers and the weight of his cock on Caleb’s tongue is a heady one. Any fantasy he’s ever had of this moment pales in comparison to the reality—to Essek’s fingers tugging at his hair, to the burst of pre-come on the back of his tongue, to the whine that Essek lets out when he presses his fingers to his prostate and his tongue to the underside of his cock at the same time.

Caleb’s still working himself up to taking all of Essek’s cock when the fingers in his hair give a sharp tug. “Stop, stop,” Essek gasps and Caleb rushes to comply, pulling off Essek’s cock with a pop and pulling his fingers out all at once.

“What is it? Was it not good? Did I hurt you?” Anxiety slams into Caleb’s chest, mixing with the guilt that he’s very familiar with. His cock, ready to go moments before, begins to soften.

“I’m okay.” Essek pushes himself up on one elbow, cupping Caleb’s cheek in his palm. “Hey, look at me.”

Caleb hesitates, not wanting Essek to see the guilt simmering in his eyes. Essek’s thumb tucks up under his chin and lifts.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Essek says, his thumb sweeping across Caleb’s cheek. “I just didn’t want to come without you inside me.”

“Oh,” Caleb breathes.

Essek wraps his hand around the back of Caleb’s neck and pulls until he gets the idea and brings himself up into a kiss. If Essek is bothered by the taste of himself on Caleb’s tongue, there’s no sign of it. It’s a gentle kiss, soft and reassuring. Essek’s hands run across his shoulders and back in soothing circles.

Essek pulls away, but he doesn’t go far, breathes against Caleb’s mouth, “I’m fine. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” Caleb says, ignoring the twist in his stomach. The words feel like acid on his tongue. He doesn’t want to think about how this is going to inevitably end, especially now that it’s just beginning. He wants to fall into Essek like a warm bath and never surface.

“No,” Essek says, tucking Caleb’s hair behind his ear. “I suppose I don’t. But I know you don’t _want_ to hurt me, and that’s enough.”

“Essek,” Caleb whispers, as Essek’s arms land around his shoulders and his legs come up around his hips. With a surge of movement, Essek attempt to flip him over onto his back. Caleb’s elbow nearly cracks into the window and Essek yelps as his knee smashes into the bed frame.

“That didn’t go how I hoped,” Essek grumbles as, slow and wincing, they situate themselves. Caleb settles onto his back, his hands held tight to his sides while Essek straddles his hips.

“You okay?”

“Fine. I still want you to fuck me,” he says, the softness of his voice contradicting the steely glint in his eyes. “I’d hate for all your hard work to go to waste.”

“I—” Caleb glances down to where his cock is still soft between them.

“Caleb,” Essek draws his attention back to his face, “do you want to fuck me?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Then think about how good it’s going to feel.” Essek wraps a hand around the base of Caleb’s cock, stroking it with a loose grip. “Being inside of me. Watching me ride you. I know I’ve been thinking about it all the time.”

“You have?” It sounds shaky as Essek slides his hips back so he can lean down and wraps his lips around Caleb’s nipple. The warmth of his mouth sends a shock through him.

Essek hums in confirmation, the vibrations going straight to Caleb’s cock. It twitches as Essek continues to tease with his hand. Essek tugs a nipple between his teeth before pulling away. “I’ve thought about you just like this, fucking myself on your cock. I’ve thought about tying your hands to a bedpost so you can’t touch, only watch. Would you like that?”

Caleb moans, his hips bucking up into the circle of Essek’s fingers. He’s half-hard again already, want rippling in his stomach. “Yes, anything.”

“Don’t tempt me, Widogast.” Essek takes his other nipple into his mouth, circling it with the tip of his tongue. Caleb moans, burying his hands in Essek’s hair. He clenches one fist, not sure whether he wants to pull Essek away or never let him move again.

He barely notices Essek rolling the condom on and guiding his cock into place. Not until he’s sitting up, thighs flexing to raise himself above it. “Fuck, Essek,” is all he has time to say before Essek lowers himself down and— _oh god oh god_ —he’s inside of him.

Essek pushes down slowly, one inch at a time, until his hips press against Caleb’s skin. He lets out a soft sigh, a shiver rolling down his spine. “You feel so good,” he says, eyes opening to reveal his pupils fully dilated.

Caleb rests his hands on Essek’s thighs, the muscles flexing beneath his touch as Essek begins to move. Caleb feels the tension seep out of him as he relaxes into the bed. He can’t take his eyes off his cock disappearing into Essek’s body, his thrusts slow and deep.

Essek’s breath hitches as he takes Caleb all the way to the root again, rolling his hips forward to push the crown of Caleb’s cock against his prostate. Caleb’s gaze darts upward, meeting Essek’s eyes. The drow’s lips are parted and his chest trembles.

Caleb slides his hand from Essek’s thigh to wrap it around his cock. He gives it a slow stroke, matching the tempo of Essek’s thrusts, and elicits a whine. He keeps going, catching the drops of pre-come to slick the way.

Essek moans and pushes him away. “Feels too good,” he says, voice almost hoarse. “Don’t want to come yet.”

“If you’re sure.” Caleb withdraws but he can’t stay away for long. He slips his fingers behind Essek’s cock, finds his balls drawn tight to his body. He rubs the soft skin with his thumb and rolls them gently against the tips of his fingers.

Essek gasps, thrusting down faster. “You’re really not helping.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Caleb teases with a toothy grin.

“Don’t you dare.”

Caleb pushes onward, toying with the sensitive skin behind Essek’s balls, making him squirm and moan. As Essek pushes up until only the head of Caleb’s cock is still inside of him, Caleb’s fingers press where they’re joined together. It’s nothing more than a light touch, curious and exploratory, but Essek’s hips jump forward and he lets out a yell.

“Would— _could_ you—” Caleb stutters, almost dizzy with the thought of it. “Would you like to see how much you can take?”

Essek whimpers and slams himself down on Caleb’s cock. “Not this time but—maybe we can add it to the list.”

“ _Fuck_.” He rests his hand back on Essek’s thigh.

“That is what we’re doing.” Essek starts to thrust with more urgency, his head falling backward, the cords of his throat standing out. His rhythm loses its finesse, turning wild and desperate. The bed-frame rattles against the wall.

Caleb bends his knees, bracing his feet against the bed. When Essek comes down, he shoves up, forcing his cock deeper.

“Caleb!” Essek shouts, bracing his hands against Caleb’s chest as he loses his balance. Caleb does it again, and again, and again, until he can feel his orgasm coiling in his gut.

“Go on,” Caleb whispers. “Come for me. I want to feel you come.”

Essek opens his mouth but all that comes out is a garbled moan. He grabs Caleb’s hand and brings it to his cock. Caleb begins to stroke, firm and slow, exactly how he likes it even if it doesn’t quite match the desperate rhythm of Essek’s hips.

Essek cries out and grinds himself down, come striping Caleb’s stomach. Caleb moans at the way Essek’s body tightens around his cock. Before he can draw another breath, he’s coming too, his hips jerking upward like he might be able to push himself deeper if he just keeps trying.

Spent, he flops boneless back onto the bed. Essek pants for breath, braced with his arms to either side of Caleb’s shoulders. It’s not until he catches his breath that he pulls free and lands on his side.

“Fuck, that was good,” Essek gasps, almost laughing.

“Just good?” Caleb teases, cupping Essek’s cheek in his palm. He runs the pad of his thumb along the drow’s swollen lower lip.

“Great, then.” Essek smirks at him, nipping at Caleb’s thumb. “I’m going to name my first scientific discovery after tonight and no one will know but us.”

Caleb drags him forward into a kiss. It’s lazy and sloppy, the angle all wrong, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Come on, smartass,” Caleb says as he nudges Essek’s chest. “Let’s shower before we mess up my bed again.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Essek grouses but he rolls off the edge of the bed and lands on his feet. His nose wrinkles as he shifts uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?” Caleb asks, hoping his knees will hold as he moves to join him.

“Fine.” Essek stops shifting his weight from side to side. “It’s—it’s been a while. I forgot how weird it feels, like something is missing.”

“Well.” Caleb grabs him by the hips, slides a hand down the crease of his ass and plays with Essek’s rim with the tips of his fingers. “Maybe after we shower, you can find it again.”

***

The days blur together, as they often do on a holiday break without classes to offer structure to them. Caleb’s method of tracking time instead becomes a cycle of working on his thesis with Essek, sex with Essek, and sleeping with Essek. He waits for the moment when Essek will get tired of spending time with him, when they’ll start stepping on each other’s nerves, but it doesn’t come. A little at a time, the lingering anxiety fades away.

He forgets, that it isn’t meant to last forever.

Caleb is curled up on the couch with Essek, both of them still half-asleep, when the front door opens.

“I’m home,” Fjord’s voice calls. “You won’t _believe_ how many accidents we passed on the way back. You’d think people had never seen snow before.”

Caleb bolts upright, thanking anyone who might be listening that he’s still wearing sweatpants. His hands flinch but it’s too late to cover up his lack of shirt and the very obvious bite marks along his neck and shoulders.

“Hi, Fjord,” Caleb says, reaching for his discarded shirt and pulling it on as Essek sits up more slowly next to him. He’s still blinking sleep out of his eyes. “How was your break?”

“It was—” Fjord stares at Essek like he’s never seen another person in their apartment before. He reaches to hang up his keys without looking and they fall to the floor instead. “It was good.”

“So.” Caleb glances at Essek, his whole face burning. Essek reaches for his own shirt and pulls it on. “This is Essek Thelyss; you’ve heard me talk about him before. Essek, this is my roommate Fjord.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Fjord says slowly, like he needs to think about each word as it comes out.

“You as well.” Essek leans over to drop a chaste kiss on Caleb’s lips. “I’m sorry, I should get out of your hair. I didn’t—realize what day it was.”

“Neither did I.” Caleb looks up at him, anxiety thrumming in his chest again. “Call me later?”

“Of course. You never did tell me what you think about geometric Langlands correspondence and S-duality.” Essek kneels down, starting to gather up his things. He doesn’t have a lot scattered across the floor—thankfully—but they’d gone through more than a few pages of paper between them of fresh notes before falling asleep on the couch.

“You don’t have to leave.” Fjord bends over at last to pick up his keys and place them properly on their hook. “I need to unpack anyway.”

“It’s okay. I have a _lot_ of laundry to do before all the washers get taken over again.” Essek smirks at Caleb as he slings his messenger bag over one shoulder. “And—what day is it?”

“Uh, Saturday,” Fjord says.

Essek whistles under his breath. “And I only have one more day before classes start. See you later, Caleb.”

“See you,” Caleb says, watching Essek sweep across the floor and out of his apartment.

Fjord lets the door close. His eyes look like they’ll never return to their normal size. “So Molly wasn’t joking,” he says. “You really are dating Essek?”

“Yes.” Caleb slowly rises to clean up the previous day’s pizza boxes and the multitude of empty Mountain Dew bottles. “You’re going to be seeing a lot of him so I hope that’s okay.”

“I’m surprised, that’s all.” Fjord shakes his head as he drops his duffel bag on the floor. “But if you’re happy, then that’s all I care about.”

Caleb’s phone lights up on the coffee table, buzzing in a continuous series that seems more like Morse code than text alerts. He’s almost afraid to pick it up.

The first text he sees is Jester: “JUST SAW ESSEK LEAVING CALEB’S PLACE WITH HIS SHIRT ON BACKWARDS.”

More recently, also Jester: “HE WAS ALSO WEARING CALEB’S SWEATPANTS.”

Then: “THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”

Molly: “I FUCKING TOLD YOU.”

Caleb groans and nearly tosses his phone across the room. His cheeks burn, the heat spreading down his throat. “Sorry, man,” Fjord says, shooting him a sympathetic look as he heads toward his bedroom.

Caleb sighs as he texts: “Essek is my boyfriend. Confirmed. Welcome back, Mighty Nein.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can now follow me on Twitter: [@DotyTakeItDown](https://twitter.com/DotyTakeItDown) I created the account less than 12 hours ago so it's brand new but it's going to be my fanfic/fandom account. 
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who read, commented, left kudos, and bookmarked this fic. I cherish each and every comment, even if I can’t respond to them all. I’m absolutely blown away by the love for this fic and these two boys. When I first came up with the idea for this fic, I thought it would be a long one-shot. I never imagined that it would grow to anything like this. I’m so glad that you’ve enjoyed this insanely self-indulgent fic of mine. 
> 
> Thank you. All of you. 
> 
> Don’t forget to love each other.


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